


Cancel Your Reservations

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rebel Matt Holt, Shiro (Voltron)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-31 10:58:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12130977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: 5 times Rebel Matt surprised Shiro, and one time he was the same.Or: Just where the hell Shiro got to.





	1. Toss and turn without me, boy

Shiro woke with a start.

He sat up at full force, both hands reaching and fingers scrambling at the open air.  For a moment, Shiro couldn’t see, blinded by panic and the memory of a bright light.  Then-

Then he finally looked.

This was not the inside of the Black Lion.

Instead, this was a planet.  One Shiro didn’t recognize at all.  It was barren and craggy, covered in rocks colored in streaks of navy and dark grey.  Above him, a storm raged, clouds churning in a slow, chaotic spin, with the occasional flash of lightning from within.  The energy sang through the air, until Shiro swore he could taste ozone even through his closed helmet.

Where  _ was _ he?

Slowly, Shiro stood and activated the display in his left arm.  It cheerfully read out the conditions of the world around him - a breathable atmosphere, unbelievably, though cold for his tastes.  No signal to the castle or to Voltron, and worse, Shiro couldn’t feel his connection to the Black Lion.  It was small and strained, just a single strand of thread.  Distant.

The were no known location - the energy and storm above prevented him from getting any kind of triangulation.  Even if he could, his sensors kept hazing and scattering every few seconds.  That would interrupt any signal he sent out before he could get answers.

Why was it doing that?  Was Shiro’s suit broken?

He ran a quick diagnostic, mind already whirling with possibilities.

How had Shiro ended up here?  Last he remembered, he was fighting with Zarkon.  They had just managed to break through, to use the bayard to create the Blazing Sword, and-

Wait, the bayard.

Where was the bayard?

Shiro spun around in place, his heart in his throat.  His boots kicked up tiny, dark pebbles, sending some scattering down a nearby incline.  There was  _ nothing _ around him.  No sign of life, no sign of Voltron, no sign of his bayard.

Next, Shiro groped at his thigh, at the little space he’d seen the rest of the team summon their bayards through. He’d never had to do it for himself, so he wasn’t sure how it felt, but maybe it had automatically reverted back there, somehow?

Nothing.

Great.  Shiro had just managed to get it back from Zarkon, after months of fighting and the culmination of his bond with the Black Lion.

Then he lost it.  And the lion.  And his team.

Gritting his teeth, Shiro suddenly turned and kicked one of the smaller rocks at his feet.  It flew off the edge of the little cliff, and clacked noisily down the incline.

Well, that had been productive.  He’d really showed that rock.  And now Shiro’s toe hurt.

“Okay, Shirogane,” Shiro said, looking up at the sky.  “Focus.  What do you need?”  He snorted.  “Other than better luck.”

The sky continued to shift and swirl, looking very dangerous.

Well, that was an answer, then.  Shiro needed shelter.

His wrist beeped, and a display came up automatically.   _ Diagnostic complete.  No internal issues detected.  External issue detected.  Source of interference detected. _

Then it showed a little map, pointing him barely more than a mile north.

Shiro looked that direction, over another outcropping or blue-and-grey rocks, then up at the storm.

Whatever the interference was, it might be some form of technology.  It had never happened to the armor before, but Shiro couldn’t imagine what else could cause that kind of strange glitching.  Maybe some sort of signal suppressor?  Regardless, technology meant civilization.  Civilization meant people.  People meant-

Well, it might mean Galra.  Knowing Shiro’s luck, that was most likely.  But Shiro could also handle a few soldiers and drones, if it came to that.  Especially if he had the element of surprise.

People, even Galra, meant communication.  Maybe a ride off this planet.

Maybe a way to get back to the team.

It also might mean shelter from the coming storm.  If it didn’t, north was as good a direction as any to look for a cave, or at least something to hide under.

Looking down at his arm, Shiro tilted his head.  He activated it once, just to be sure.

It turned on.  But like the armor, something seemed off.  The light didn’t flicker so far as Shiro could tell, but it would occasionally  _ feel _ weird.  Like there were fluctuations, or maybe a vibration.

Huh.

Well, Shiro would deal with it as it became a problem. 

For now, he stepped back and looked over the slight cliff ahead of him.  It was about ten feet high, and the rock looked solid to Shiro.

It was also rough, breaking apart into rough jolts and crumbling in all along the wall.

Shiro turned off the arm, took a deep breath, and ran.

At the last moment, he jumped up.  One foot pressed to the rock, just as Shiro activated his jetpack.  The momentum jerked him up, but he was able to keep his feet under him, so he didn’t crash into the side of the rock wall.

Catching onto the edge of the cliff, Shrio pulled himself up and looked around from his new vantage point.

Now he could see farther north, far out onto a plane of wind-swept rocks.

There was nothing out there.

Shiro frowned and checked the map again.  There had to be something here, right?  Something was messing with his armor’s sensors.

The map scattered for a moment, then reformed with the same message.

Source of interference one mile north from the current location.

Huh.

Shiro tilted his head, then nodded.  “It’s hidden, then,” he decided.  His voice only echoed back to him, slightly tinny in the confines of his helmet.  But at least it wasn’t more silence, or simply the wind howling over the long expanse of rock.

“Let’s go.”

Did that still work when there was no ‘us’?  The alternate was ‘let me go’, and that had a very different meaning.

Jeez.  Shiro had been alone on this planet for ten minutes, and he was already starting to fall down the rabbit hole of English grammar.  No wonder Pidge had been so twitchy when they reunited after the wormhole scattered them.  

“Pull yourself together,” he said.

Then, he started to walk.

***

It wasn’t a long trek to the point on the map, but Shiro had several disadvantages.  One was that the wind continued to pick up, nearly knocking him off his feet on more than one occasion. The other was that the closer he got to the spot, the harder it was the read the map.  It went from an occasional glitch to near constant, with bare moments of stability to determine how close he was.

But finally, Shiro was overlapped with the little blinking dot.

No buildings.  No sign of beings.  Nothing.

Stepping over to the nearest boulder, Shiro tapped on it.  It felt solid to his touch, so he moved onto another one.  Then another.  Then another.

He made a circle around the area, testing each one.  Neither seemed especially different from the others, at least as far as he could tell.  Shiro couldn’t hear the noise his knocking made over the howling over the wind.

Okay, dead end.

If Shiro was hiding a secret base, where would he put it?

He stamped around the ground next, trying to see if any place had spring or didn’t feel as solid, like there was a trap door below.

Nothing.

Dammit.

“C’mon!”  He groaned.  “Something’s here.  I know it is.  So what’s going on?”

Wait.  Wait, wait.  Shiro had another way to pinpoint where he needed to go.

Holding his arm up, Shiro activated the Galra arm.

Immediately, it was like he was grinding his teeth on aluminum foil.  Vibrations ran through his arm, to the point it felt like something was screeching inside him.  

Shiro took a deep breath, steeling himself against the pain.  Then he took a step forward.

The awful feeling lessened.

Smiling widely, Shiro turned back and stepped back.  Obligingly, the feeling increased, more and more the farther he walked back.  When the feeling waned, he moved left, which made the effect worse.  Right improved it.

One step at a time, Shiro was able to slowly work his way to one particular spot in the rock.  Upon closer inspection, there was a slight indent leading to this area, like something heavy had been dragged and dug through the rock.

Pushing one of the medium-sized rocks out of the way, Shiro swallowed hard.  His heart was beating faster now, hope making his hands shake.  Maybe this was some kind of entrance and he’d finally get in.  He’d get away from the storm and the wind, he’d find a way to contact his team, he’d get to go  _ home- _

Then Shiro saw something different in the wall.

It was not a door or a secret hatch.

This was a different kind of rock.  One that looked like obsidian, with flecks of brightly glowing blue along the edges.  The whole thing was about the size of a basketball, or maybe slightly bigger.

It was not anything Shiro had looked for, but it was oddly beautiful.

Looking back at the furrow, Shiro tried to imagine how this little rock had dug such a strange furrow through the rest of the stone.

Then it hit.

This was a meteorite.  That furrow here was where it had landed and scraped to a stop.

“Son of a bitch,” Shiro groaned, resting his forehead on the navy stone wall.

Something about this alien rock had the strange ability to mess with his armor’s signal, and to interfere with his hand.  That meant it probably did something with quintessence, like the lions on the castle.

Actually-

Shiro deactivated the Galra arm and took a deep breath.

Now that he was closer, he could  _ feel _ the energy himself, just as he could sense the storm above him.  It crackled through him, setting off sensations it shouldn’t have been able to cause through the armor.

This felt-

This felt familiar.

It felt like the castle.  It felt like the lions.

It felt like Black.

For a moment, a wave of something like nostalgia washed over Shiro, nearly crushing him with the force of it.  He still had no idea how he had ended up here, had no idea where the rest of the team was.  Were they scattered like him? Were they together and worried about him?  Were they alive?

Shiro had finally found a home.  One that was real, and tangible, and made him feel closer to being safe.

This little piece of rock felt like that.

Without thinking it through, without following more than that ache in his heart, Shiro blinked back tears and reached out.

The tip of his metal arm touched onto the meteorite.

It wasn’t until that exact moment Shiro realized what a stupid, stupid mistake he’d made.

There was a painfully bright flash, and Shiro felt himself leave the ground as he was pushed back by a wave of force.

Then his back hit something hard, and his vision went black.

***

A rumble of thunder cracked overhead, powerful enough that the shockwave of it echoed in Shiro’s chest.  He twitched, then groaned as his whole body protested the movement.

His back hurt.  The entirety of his chest ached from it, and when Shiro shifted, he could feel something behind him grind and break.

His jetpack.  It must have taken the majority of the impact, and it tended to be more fragile than the rest of the armor.

Damn.

Shiro groaned and took a deep breath, collecting himself.  Thunder roared overhead again, and the wind howled.  It was time to get up, or else he was about to find himself in an even worse situation.

Forcing his eyes open, Shiro focused up at the sky.

There was a masked face in the way.

Shiro yelled, automatically trying to swipe at the figure.  But his back protested the movement vehemently, and he missed terribly.

Darting away, the being held up a staff between themself and Shiro, holding it steadily at his head.  They were biped, with two arms, and a head, but that was about all Shiro could tell.  Their outfit was made out of draped blue fabric, nearly the same color as the rocks, with orange accents.  The fabric obscured the actual shape of them, and the mask was a similar style to the Blade of Marmora - totally surrounding the head and featureless.

Shiro took a deep breath and forced himself up to one knee.  The way the being held the weapon was undeniably threatening, and Shiro held up his right hand, activating it.

Immediately, pain shot through him again, this time like sticking his finger in an electrical socket.  Shiro cried out, slumping forward, and the light fizzled out completely.

Even once the arm was off, the pain continued to roll through Shiro, lighting him from the inside like aftershocks.  It felt like he was being dunked in energy and pulled apart, atom by atom.

When he looked down at his hand, the fingers twitched awkwardly, but it otherwise seemed intact.  Shiro couldn’t see any damage to the casing.

So the impact hadn’t been what hurt it.  Which meant it was from touching that stupid rock.

Shiro glanced back over at it, scowling darkly.  But before he could do more, the figure moved between him and the meteorite, jabbing the staff forward.

Okay, apparently Shiro wasn’t supposed to go touching that.  Fine with him.  He held up his hand in understanding, then rolled his shoulders.  His back twinged painfully again.

“I’m getting old,” he muttered, knowing full well the other figure wouldn’t hear him through his helmet.

Slowly, painfully, Shiro made his way to his feet.  He was unsteady, between the two sources of pain, but he kept his balance, arms still up non-threateningly.

Thankfully, the being seemed to understand the gesture.  Then slowly lowered the staff, pointing at Shiro’s knees instead.  They could probably swipe his legs out quickly if they needed to, especially with Shiro such a mess.

He was no threat.

At least they didn’t seem to be Galra.

The quiet standoff continued for another moment.  For a moment, the being’s head tilted, and Shiro felt like he was seeing one part of a conversation.  Maybe this being communicated in a way other than speaking or gesturing?  It was totally possible that they were trying to say something to him, and Shiro was just totally unable to tell.

Finally, the being twirled the staff in their hand, then rested the end on the ground like a walking stick.  They pointed to Shiro, then gestured to the side with two fingers.

_ You.  Go this way. _

Shiro considered opening up the communication channel so he could speak outside the closed helmet, or just opening the bottom half.  The atmosphere was fine to breathe, after all.  But the whipping winds and loud thunder would drown it out in a moment.  Besides, Shiro still wasn’t sure this being even spoke at all.  So he nodded and turned, taking a step.  Then he turned his head to the being, waiting for them to move.

The tilt of their head and ease of their shoulders actually seemed pleased with him.  With that, the being set off at a steady trot.

Wait.

Shiro scrambled after, his shoulders screaming at him for the strain.  While his arm continued to have problems, his gait was off as well, making him feel like he was limping from the shoulders.  

Even ignoring his pain was much as possible, Shiro started to fall behind.

The being suddenly turned, ducking past another outcropping of rock, and Shiro followed as quickly as possible.  He just barely managed to catch sight of them as they took another turn, but when he got there, he couldn’t see them.

Shit.

Shiro groaned in pure frustration and started to run, or as close to it as he could.  His head darted back and forth, trying to catch sight of even a glance of the figure.

Then a hand caught him around the right bicep and pulled him back.

Shiro groaned, slumping against the wall for support as white spots filled his vision.  He had to have pulled something, or at least bruised the hell out of his back, because it had been a long time since Shiro hurt this much.

Well, probably since the last time he was stranded on an alien planet.

That time, at least Shiro had Keith to keep him company.

This time, at least he hadn’t dragged Keith into this with him.

Finally, Shiro realized he wasn’t in the same wind-made hallway of rock and cliffs he had been.  Instead, he was in a little cave.  The entrance of it glowed faintly with orange energy.

Well.  A secret entrance after all.  Just not where Shiro had expected.

The being was still there, one hand outstretched from where they’d grabbed Shiro, the other gripping tightly on the staff.  Now that they were next to each other, Shiro could see they were surprisingly slight, just slightly smaller than him.  He wondered, vaguely, if they might be Olkari.

This time, they weren’t alone.

There were two more beings, both in similar dress.  But neither was wearing the helmets - one had huge, feathery ears jutting from the top of their head, nearly neon orange in color.  The other was thin and pale brown, with hair pulled back neatly between two slender, pale horns.

“Who is this?”  Demanded feather-head.  “Why are they not restrained?”

Brown-elfin-and-horned frowned.  “They are injured, and they followed willingly.  It does not seem to be necessary.”

Feather-head scowled and looked in the tiny cave space, filling the pathway further.  “Just because they went along doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be handled properly!  What if it’s a spy?”

It.  Thanks.

“Then we restrain them inside,” the original being said, their voice surprisingly youthful.

And familiar.

Reaching up, the being tapped the side of their head, retracting the helmet.

Human.  Brown hair and eyes.  A round, youthful face, and a curved, thin mouth.

Shiro’s mouth fell open.

Automatically, Shiro reached for his own helmet.

Before he could reach it, feather-head darted forward, using their forearm to slam Shiro into the wall.  Judging by the weight of them, they had to be made of solid muscle.  “What are you doing?” They demanded.

Shiro pointed to his helmet, nearly desperately.  A flick of his fingers deactivated the bottom portion.  “I’m taking this off, that’s all!”

Less than two feet from him, after being galaxies apart, Matt Holt frowned thoughtfully.  There was something almost painfully bright in his eyes.  It looked nearly like hope.

Shiro’s heart beat faster.

“Hey, Dranel.  Let them.”

Feather-head glanced at Matt, still tense and unhappy.  Then they reluctantly stepped away, brow furrowed.  They seemed to see the same thing in Matt’s expression that Shiro did.

Slowly, painfully, Shiro took hold of the helmet and pulled it off.

“Hey,” he said, voice gentle.  “Long time no see.”

Matt stared at him, like he’d seen a ghost.

Shiro could understand the feeling.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other.  Shiro’s heart pounded in his chest, fingers gripping so tightly on the helmet that he felt like he’d break that too.

“Holt?” Horns said.  “Who is this?”

“This,” Matt said, still barely blinking, “is our pilot.  And the idiot who saved my life.”

With that, he burst forward, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s chest.

Immediately, Shiro dropped the helmet and pulled Matt in for a desperate hug.

Shiro didn’t know where he was.  He didn’t know where his team was, where the castle was, if they were even okay.

But despite that, he’d found a little bit of home.


	2. Worlds fly by

“Ow!”  Shiro closed his eyes, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from making even more pathetic noises.  “Matt, gentle.”

Behind him, Matt sighed.  “I’m sorry!  I need to check to make sure nothing is broken.  You could easily have shattered your spine when you hit that rock face, you know.  I’m trying to make sure you don’t have permanent damage, here.”

Shiro grumbled but didn’t argue further.  Instead he gripped the edge of the table and suffered Matt jabbing his long, bony fingers into his back with as little wincing as possible.

So far, neither of them had mentioned the scars.  But Matt had gone very, very quiet for almost five minutes when he’d seen them, so it was only a matter of time.

“There’s no doctor that can handle this?”  Shiro asked.  “Last I checked, you didn’t finish that doctorate.  Also, that doctorate was in xenogeology.”

Matt huffed.  “Yeah, well, the specifics of the human body are kind of a mystery to most species out here.  The ones who do know humans, I don’t trust as far as I can throw them.”  Finally, his touch left, and there was a quick noise like something being opened.  Then, Matt’s hands returned, now covered in a chilly goop.  He started to rub it in.  “Speaking of: I told you abduction stories could be real.  Hah.  Who was right?”

“Aliens have actually been abducting from Earth?” Shiro asked, eyes wide.  He’d been told about that silly Earth store at the mall, resulting in Katlenecker the cow.  So, clearly some aliens had visited, but he hadn’t ever thought about other stories being accurate.

Matt hummed.  “From what I’ve heard?  It’s not uncommon for some beings to float around less technologically advanced planets just to sate their curiosity about the local wildlife.  Jerks.”

“Turns out, there’s a lot of jerks in the universe.”

The words slipped out before Shiro could hold them back.  It was just a little too close to real, a step closer to discussing that thing they weren’t discussing.

Matt’s hands stilled, and he let out a long sigh.  “Yeah.  There are.”  His fingers traced a thick, knotted scar that curved around one of Shiro’s shoulders.

Shiro still didn’t know what it was from.  He suspected it was being lashed, but he’d never wanted to voice the thought out loud.  Matt’s touch burned on his skin, and Shiro fought the urge to jerk away and pull on his armor.  It’d only hurt, physically and emotionally.

“Matt...” Shiro murmured.  “Are you- how are you?”

This time, the silence was longer.  “You know, I’m stuck on a tiny nowhere planet, about as far across the known universe as we can be from home.  But, today I found the missing member of our crew, who I thought was very dead, so I guess I’m better than yesterday.”

Shiro jolted, then twisted to face Matt.  He ignored the way his shoulders ached in protest.  It was better than it had been already.  “The missing member?  Commander Holt is here too?”  Matt hadn’t said, and Shiro had been-

Frankly, he was afraid to ask.

Matt’s eyes widened, then softened.  “Oh!  Yeah.  He’s further in.  When you’re fixed up, I’ll take you to see him.  Or, when we get permission.  ...Maybe Dad will come to you, actually.”

“Does it help if I point out I’m a paladin of Voltron?”

That earned him another beat of silence.  “Um.  You’re a  _ what?” _

Shiro frowned.  That wasn’t the tone of someone who was shocked and impressed.  Matt sounded utterly confused.  He didn’t know what Voltron was.

“It’s a weapon,” Shiro replied. “And old one, from before the Galra took over the universe.  We found it, and we’ve been using it to fight back.  We’ve liberated a good handful of planets, and we’ve been fighting Zarkon’s fleet.  Winning.  Right before I woke up here, we were fighting Zarkon himself.”

Leaning back on his hands, Matt stared at Shiro, mouth hanging open.  “You- what kind of- how are you- who is even- Shiro.  Shiro.   _ What?” _

“I should probably explain from the beginning,” Shiro admitted.  “Should I tell you first, or wait for someone else?”

Matt scrubbed over his face.  It left a smear of pale blue, the same color of whatever he’d been rubbing into Shiro’s back.  Wrinkling his nose, he yanked his fingers back.  “Eugh.  Okay.  Well.  I mean, sure.  Why not.  You’re already back from the dead.”

“I didn’t die facing Myzax,” Shiro finally pointed out.  “I won.”

Sighing, Matt shrugged.  “I mean, obviously.  Apparently.  You’re here.  But Myzax was like... fifteen feet tall. And mean.”

“His weapon used a pattern,” Shiro replied.  “Three uses, then rest.  Like a goddamn Nintendo game.”

For a long moment, Matt just stared again.  Then he burst into laughter, smacking his hands on the table.  “Holy- seriously?  I can’t believe it.  I told you playing Zelda would save your life one day.”

Shiro smiled back, amused at Matt’s hysterics.  He’d been... subdued, so far.  At least for Matt.  Still quick with a comment, but there hadn’t been a single nickname, and barely any mockery.

This version of Matt Holt was much more serious.

But at least he still laughed the same.

“You said nothing of the sort,” Shiro replied, nearly prim.  “What you said that I would remember the times I played Zelda and snuck shitty beer with you more than I would remember studying.  Which, you weren’t wrong there.  But I recall nothing about saving my life.”

“Just your sanity.”  Matt snickered harder.  “Oh, no, it’s not Zelda.  Shiro.  It’s Super Mario Galaxy.”

Groaning, Shiro shook his head.  “You’re lucky my shoulders are killing me, or else I’d hit you for that one.”

Matt slowly sobered up, his face flushed and eyes bright.  “No, you won’t.”  Then he paused.  “You really tried to before, though.  With that arm.”  His eyes fell to Shiro’s right side, and the smile slid off his face.

“I didn’t know it was you,” Shiro pointed out.  “And I think we’ve both changed a little since the last time we were together.”

Matt nodded, eyes still on the arm.  “Yeah.  I think so too.”  He reached out, then paused.  “Can I see it?”

Turning in place, so they were facing each other on the metal table, Shiro offered the prosthetic.  “Careful with it.  Normally, it’s inert unless I’m attacking, but it’s been acting off since I touched that meteorite out there.”

“You-”  Matt stared at him.  “You found a strange power source in the middle of nowhere, with no instruments or back-up or the ability to get help if you needed it.  And you  _ touched it?” _

Wincing, Shiro opened his mouth, then shrugged.  “It felt familiar,” he admitted.

“Okay, that makes it okay.  Sure.”  Matt finally took hold of the arm and started to move it, twisting it around to see everywhere. His touch was delicate, barely putting any pressure on the metal.  Shiro couldn’t tell if it was because he was trying not to hurt Shiro, or if it was because he didn’t feel comfortable near it.

“I don’t see any external damage.  We can hook it up to something to check on it.  I assume it works like other Galra prosthetics?”

“You think I know?  They didn’t exactly stop and explain the inner workings to me.”

Matt paused, then inclined his head.  “Good point.”  He stared down at the metal, the tips of his fingers trailing down to rest over the back of Shiro’s palm.  “What did they do to you, Takashi?”

Swallowing hard, Shiro closed his eyes.  “I don’t know.  There’s so much I don’t remember.  I was there a year, and I remember some things, but most of it...”

Silence hung over them both.  Shiro shivered, both from the threatening press of memories and his lack of armor.

When he finally opened his eyes, Matt wasn’t looking at Shiro’s arm anymore.  Instead, he was staring at his chest.

At his scars.

Immediately, Shiro curled in, finally in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be when Matt was checking for injuries.  That was necessary, and Shiro had learned to deal with necessity.  This, though... 

“Are we done?” Shiro’s voice tightened and hardened, pushing ahead to the next topic.  Pushing away.

“Yeah, for now.  If it hurts worse later, tell me.”  Matt pushed the armor closer and hopped down off the table.  “Shiro-”

“I don’t want to have this conversation.”

Matt scowled.  “We’re just going to mutually ignore it?”

Brows up, Shiro stared him down.  “Yes.”

Snatching up his staff, Matt set his jaw.  “Can I at least thank you?”

“No.”  Shiro held steady under Matt’s glare, then sighed.  “Alright.  Fine.  I suppose you can, if you want to.  Your leg healed up alright?”

Matt nodded.  “Took a little bit.  That was a good cut. But yes, it healed.  Stronger than ever, now.  I-”  He hesitated, then shook his head.  “I have so many questions.”

The unintentional echo of something Shiro had felt so keenly knocked the wind out of his sails.  He dressed quickly, wincing when it pulled on his shoulders.  “You’ll have some of your answers soon.  I have a lot of questions for you too.”

“Yeah.  I bet.  Things have gone a little differently than we planned.”  Matt’s smile was distant and sad, aimed in Shiro’s direction but not really at him.  Not when his eyes were so far away.

Looking over Matt - the longer hair, the new cut on his jaw, the more prominent cheek bones - Shiro managed a smile.  “Hey, you did say we might learn more about life beyond our solar system.”

“God, yes I did.  I had no idea.”  Matt shook his head, then smiled.  “Alright, c’mon.  I’ll get the gang together, and you can tell us about this Voltran weapon of yours that can apparently beat Zarkon.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Volt _ ron.” _

Flapping a hand, Matt snorted.  “Alright, sure.  Let’s get you settled somewhere while I herd all these cats together.”  Then he paused, looking Shiro over.  “You’ll be okay alone for a bit?  The room won’t exactly be hospitable.  I won’t call you a prisoner, but you definitely will be in a more secure room.”

That made sense.  Shiro was still an unknown element, even if Matt and Commander Holt vouched for him.

“I’ll be okay,” Shiro replied.  “I have a lot of story to tell, and this will be the first time I’ve had to explain it to someone.  Gives me a chance to think.”

Nodding, Matt gestured for Shiro to follow.  Right before the door, though, he paused and reached out, resting his hand gently on Shiro’s shoulder.  “Hey.  I didn’t really say.  So, you know.  Thank you for what you did for me.”

“You’re welcome,” Shiro replied. “It was the right choice.  We both got out, right?”  Maybe not into good situations, but they’d survived, and that was what mattered.  “Don’t thank me until you have the full story, though.”

Matt’s brows jumped up.  “Well, that’s promising.  Let’s get started, then.”

***

“Takashi.”

Shiro’s head snapped up, and then he stood at attention, all at once.  Then he had to groan and brace his hand on his chair’s armrest to keep from toppling over.  “Sir,” he managed, wincing through a smile

Commander Sam Holt stood in the doorway, brows raised.  He was wearing the same, dark blue clothing as the rest of them, though he had more of the orange accents.  He was slumping forward a touch, which was strange to see.  Once upon a time, Sam Holt hadn’t been the most formal member of the Garrison by a long shot, but he’d held himself with military pride.  Now, there was a curve to his back that spoke of age.  

It might have been distressing, except that Shiro was so damn happy to see him.

“Don’t kill yourself on my behalf.  I was just going to greet you.”  Sam stepped over and waited for Shiro to catch his breath, then offered his hand with a warm look. 

Clasping it, Shiro gave him a much easier smile.  “I can’t guarantee that, Sir.  I nearly died three times in the past couple of hours, by my count.”

“Sir?  Oh, please don’t.  Sam, Takashi. You’ve more than earned that.”  Comma- Sam squeezed Shiro’s hand.  His grip wasn’t nearly as firm as it had been, once.  It was hard to tell if it was because he was being gentle for Shiro’s sake, or for his own.

Either way, Shiro couldn’t complain.  Commander Holt was  _ alive. _

Shiro couldn’t wait to see Pidge’s face.

He opened his mouth to say more, but the feather-headed alien of before stepped in after, eyeing Shiro like he was considering how best to flay a human.  But his eyes darted to Sam and softened, so he only settled in the chair, silent.

“I’m glad Matt managed to find you,” Shiro said.  “I was worried you’d still be separated, after all that.”

Shaking his head, Sam straightened up.  “You’re mistaken, actually.  I was the one who found Matthew.”

Brows up, Shiro considered him.  “That sounds like a story.”

“I believe it can wait till after we hear yours,” Sam shot back.  “I’m sure you have a lot to explain.  Especially about this Voltran business that Matthew mentioned.”

Oh, Matt had definitely mispronounced that on purpose.  Shiro took a deep breath so he wouldn’t roll his eyes or scowl.  “It’s going to be a long talk, then.”

“Dad!”  Matt entered the tiny room.  “There you are.  You could have waited for me.”  He shot his father a flat look.  “And where is your cane?”

Sam rolled his eyes and shot Shiro a flat look, then turned to face his son.  He reached back, and pulled something off his belt.  It formed into a long, metal rod with a handle, and Sam leaned his weight on it.  “Contented?”

“Never,” Matt replied.  “You should be sitting down.”

That only made Sam’s expression get tighter.  Even so, he pulled over a chair and sat heavily in it, then swatted the base of his cane at Matt’s feet.  “Yes, yes.  Don’t mind him, Takashi, he’s become overprotective.”

“I can see that,” Shiro replied, glancing between them both.  The room they’d stuffed Shiro into had felt reasonable sized when he was alone with his thoughts, but it was already starting to feel a bit crowded.  The bickering wasn’t helping.  

Matt sighed.  “Overprotective, right.  Sorry for trying to keep your sorry butt alive.  When you fall down a flight of steps, I’ll get Kitia and Taki to build your corpse a very lovely stasis coffin.  We’ll display your remains here for the next century as a reason to  _ listen _ to health care advice.”

Looking to Shiro, Sam rolled his eyes.  “See?”

Shiro sat down as well, words caught in his chest.  It was strange to see them both like this.  Last he’d seen them, Sam was the calm voice of reason, and Matt was off tilting at windmills.  

Seeing Sam looking older and  _ fragile _ was doing uncomfortable things to Shiro’s stomach.  And seeing Matt be worried and responsible about the situation was making it even worse.

“Speaking of the twins,” feather-head said.  “How long until they come?”

Matt sighed.  “I told them to come right away, and then said they were finishing up.”

Feather-head snorted and leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed.  “It will be a deca-pheob, then.”

“Nah, only a couple of quintents.”  Matt grinned at him, then pulled another chair over to sit next to Shiro.  With a Holt on either side, Shiro felt bracketed in.  Was it to protect him, or because they’d missed him?

Maybe both?

“How many more people are we waiting for?” Shiro asked.

Matt leaned back in his chair.  “Well, there’s Dranel and us, and you already met Cartra.  Then the twins, Kitia and Taki.  So just three more.  You make lucky number seven.”

“Chosen for the lucky number,” Sam murmured, his lips curled up.  Shiro grinned back at him, catching the reference.

Dranel opened his eyes again, one bright orange ear twitching impatiently.  “You should not tell him more.”

Sighing, Matt eyed him.  “We know Shiro.  He’s a good guy, like I told you.”

“He has been the subject of the Galra.”  Dranel nodded to the prosthetic, hands folded over his lap.  “It is impossible to know what is in there.”

There was a flash of temper on Matt’s face, but then he ducked his head and nodded.  “Fair.  We’ll keep it general for now, at least until we have a better idea.  That work?”

Shiro stared at Matt.

The Matt that Shiro knew was all sarcasm and starry-eyes.  He cared about the Garrison only as far as it would take him into space, without any personal attachment to the military structure.  Even his father being an officer had never earned the Garrison any respect in Matt’s book.

But this was  _ deference. _  Matt wasn’t even catching Shiro’s eyes to make faces, or glancing up with that sly look of ‘I am smarter than you, instructor, and one day soon I’ll be past you.’

Those looks and that attitude had regularly driven Shiro up a wall.  It was one thing to feel rebellious, but another to  _ broadcast _ it to the world.  Matt was going to tank his chances out of sheer arrogance and irreverence, and Shiro was going to watch the entire train wreck unfold.

Now, Shiro missed that verson of Matt.

“Acceptable,” Dranel replied.  “I understand your attachment, but it is early, yet.  The Galra will used any method they can to undermine rebellion.”

Sam tapped his cane on the floor.  “On this count, I don’t agree,” he offered.  “The way Shiro becomes effective as a mole is if they know that we are attached to him.  If the Galra already know the personnel here well enough to use those from our past against us, they wouldn’t need to bother.  They’d just shoot us from orbit.”

Slowly, Dranel inclined his head.  “It could be an unfortunate coincidence.  But I see your point.  That and your contributions are why he has a chance.”

“I appreciate that,” Shiro said, finally speaking up and addressing Dranel directly, whose eyes snapped to Shiro, irises the same blinding orange as his ears.  

Dranel took a deep breath, then closed his eyes again.  “We’ll discuss further after you have explained yourself.”

And that was that.

Shiro made a face, but didn’t argue.  If Matt wasn’t going to kick up a fuss, Shiro wasn’t going to be the one to rock the boat.  He needed them to agree to help, and the best way to do that was to be a model prisoner.

Hopefully.

If that didn’t work, Shiro would find a plan B.  His original backup of ‘knock out everyone and steal their equipment’ was obviously out of the picture now.

There was a commotion behind the door, and the pale brown alien of before stepped through.  Behind them were near identical looking Unili.  Both had blue hair, one with it pulled back and the other down in a bob, and they wore short-sleeved, orange-heavy versions of the garb. 

“This is him?”  One asked, coming in close.  They reached out with two of their four arms, grabbing Shiro by the cheeks and turning his face around.  “Interesting!  This human is different from you two.  Your follicles can come in multiple colors like this?”

Shiro yanked back, eyes wide.  “Hey!”

The one with their hair up come closer and gently smacked the other on the top left arm.  “Taki!  Don’t be ridiculous.”  They scowled, the bottom two arms resting on their hips.  “Clearly, that comes from quintessence exposure.”

Of course, that was the objection.  Not Shiro being looked at like a show dog.

Sam reached out, putting one hand gently on Shiro’s arm.  “Both of you, enough.  Takashi is a guest.  As much as he can be, at the moment.  Personal space, remember?”

Taki sighed and nodded glumly.  “Apologies, Takashi.”

Kitai pressed their lips together.  “Understood.  We are sorry.   _ May _ we inspect your follicles?”

“I-” Shiro’s shoulders tightened under their obvious curiosity.  It felt academic.  Clinical.

It made Shiro feel small and desperate.

Finally, he took a deep breath.  “Later?  It won’t help me explain how I got here if you’re inspecting me.”

The twins shared a look, then both nodded.  “This is true,” agreed Taki.  “We will wait.”

That settled, both of them climbed around Shiro to sit on the table rather than in chairs.  They pressed their shoulders together and began to discuss in low voices.  It took Shiro a moment to realize they had switched languages, to one that the translators didn’t pick up on.  Huh.

Someone at the door sighed.  “Are you waiting on me?” Cartra asked.  “I apologize, I had thought the twins would take longer.”

“We said to Holt that we were finishing,” objected Kitai.  

“You say that constantly,” Matt pointed out, rolling his eyes.  “That’s not a good indicator of how long you’ll be.”

Kitai’s lips quirked up.  “Finishing sometimes takes patience.  You did not ask for a specific time frame.”

“I’m going to remember that.”

Cartra watched them, openly amused.  She settled onto one of the remaining three chairs, then pinned Shiro with her gaze next.  “Holt mentioned you were ready to speak with us?”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro nodded.  “Yes.  Mostly.  The story might be a little rough.  I’ve never actually had to tell it to anyone.  Everyone who needed to know was there for most of it.”

“Yes, please, get your alibi in order,” Dranel drawled.

Shiro’s brows rose, but he bit his tongue.  “If there’s holes in my story, please, point them out to me.  But the actual telling might be disjointed.  That’s all.” 

Squeezing Shiro’s arm, Sam watched him carefully.  “Take your time.  We need you to be through.”

“Not too much time,” Taki muttered.  “Boring.”

Ignoring that, Shiro glanced at Matt.  “Well, I’m going to get one thing out now, because none of you are going to like it.  It was with the Galra for about a year, but I don’t remember most of it.  In the escape, I hit my head, but I suspect a lot of it is just... I remember it when I’m reminded.  The rest of the time I can’t.”

“You’re right,” Dranel replied.  “I don’t like that.”

Matt’s lips pressed thin, eyes darting to Dranel.  When he’d heard that from Shiro before, he hadn’t blinked, but now it seemed to make him nervous.  “Define ‘can’t.’”

“I mean that it’s in my head.  It comes out on occasion, but all of it has been... not very good.”  Shiro winced and looked down at his lap, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

He felt Matt’s gaze burning into the side of his head.

“So for now, yes, that’s a blank spot.  I know Haggar had some use for me.”  Shiro held up the arm and waved with the fingers.  “But I imagine I’m not a sleeper agent.  It’d have come up by now.”

“And how can you be so sure?” Asked Cartra.

Pointing to his armor, Shiro smiled.  “Because we’ve been fighting them.”

Then he started to explain.

***

Predictably, it took hours.

He wasn’t just interrupted by Sam and Matt asking questions about Pidge (“Katie is in space?” “She flies  _ what now?” _ “How is she doing?  Is she safe?  Is she happy?”).  

Shiro was interrupted about  _ everything. _

Cartra wanted to know more about Voltron, about how the lions worked, about the castle, and about Allura.

Dranel wanted to know about Sendak, about the Blade of Marmora, about Zarkon’s forces.

Taki and Kitai interrogated him endlessly about the robeasts, about the construction of the lions and their quintessence, and about his arm.

But finally,  _ finally, _ Shiro had them caught up.

“Then I woke up here,” he told them.  “I can’t tell you exactly what happened.  I imagine it had to do something with how Black can phase through matter.”  

By the time Shiro had gotten to explaining Myzax the Robeast, Matt hand grabbed onto his wrist and stayed clamped on.  It was the metal wrist, which was good, because otherwise it would have hurt. 

Matt drummed his fingers uncomfortably on the metal.  “Why here?”

Shiro shrugged.  “I can’t say.  If I had to guess?  Whatever that weird meteorite is.  It  _ feels _ like Voltron.  I don’t know if I could explain how, but it resonates in me the same way.  Which was...”  he paused, blushing.  “Which was why I tried to touch it.”

“Years of training,” Sam mused.  “Months upon months of drilling space travel etiquette into impressionable minds.  And you poked the space rock.”

“It was a very familiar feeling space rock,” Shiro replied.  “And I thought I was alone.”

Matt rolled his eyes.  “You keep saying that like it makes it so much less stupid.”  Then he looked over to Cartra and Dranel.  “And we know what happened from there.  What do you think?”

Letting out a long sigh, Dranel crossed his thick arms.  “There’s nothing to back up anything he’s saying,” he pointed out.  “And he doesn’t have to be aware to be a spy.  The arm alone could be recording everything.”

Shiro raised it.  “Not right now.  Until it gets fixed it, no one can get anything from this.  I can’t turn it on without it hurting me.”

“From touching the meteorite?” Kitai asked.  They leaned over the side of the table, peering past the top of Shiro’s head to see the arm better.  “We can fix that.”

Curling it again his chest, Shiro frowned.  “It’s fairly delicate,” he replied.  

“Taki and Kitai are no slouches at what they do,” Cartra told him.  She ran a slender hand between her horns, smoothing out her long brown hair.  “I believe him.  At least about Voltron and the lions.”

Shiro sat up straighter, his heart stuttering in his chest.  “You do?”

“Of course,” Cartra replied.  She smiled, a sly twist of her lips.  “I would have to, considering I am a descendant of the original Green Paladin.”

Mouth falling open, Shiro stared.

“You what?” Matt asked.  “That’s the same thing Katie is, right?”  He glanced at Shiro, but didn’t wait for a confirmation.  

Finally, Shiro found his voice.  “The whole time, you know?  You could have said something!”

Cartra eyed him, one one brow rising.  “No, I could not have.  I wanted you to speak of the details, so that I could know you were speaking from experience.  Your stories and dress match what has been passed down through my family.”

Frowning, Dranel drummed his fingers on his leg.  “You truly have faith in this story?”

“In the aspects of Voltron, yes,” Cartra replied.  “Samuel and Holt have vouched for his character.  No one can vouch for his missing year, but the arm is in disrepair anyway.  He is injured, and therefore no threat to us.”  She stood, hands folded in front of her.  “I feel no worry in including this paladin in our group.  We can always use the extra hands.”

Dranel let out a slow breath.  “We also could use the rations he will need,” he replied, but it was without heat.  “I will concede, but I want him under watch.”

“We can!” Taki called, waving a hand cheerfully.

Shiro’s eyes widened, and he leaned back and away from them.  He didn’t want to be the subject of their curiosity more than absolutely necessary.

Snorting, Matt patted Shiro’s shoulder.  “He can stay with me.  And if I can’t keep an eye on him, Dad can babysit.”

“I find that very agreeable.”  Sam nodded.  “We survived living in a small ship together for months, I’m sure we can manage keeping an eye on you throughout the complex.”

Slowly, Shiro nodded and smiled. “Whatever it takes,” he replied.  “And I hope you understand how crucial it is for me to try and get in contact with Voltron.  Not only for the universe, but because Pidge is there.”

Cartra and Dranel exchanged looks.  “We will do what we can,” Cartra replied.  “But we cannot risk constant signals.  The storms and the meteorite help keep the Galra from noticing us, but it only does so much.  I wish to reunite you all, but I cannot do that if it will also bring us in contact with our enemies.”

Damn.  It was what Shiro had expected, but it still hurt to hear.

He glanced at Matt, fully expecting fireworks and open rebellion.  After all, that contact was what stood between him and his sister.

Instead, Matt sighed and nodded.  “Of course.”

That-

Shiro stared.

“I’d like to discuss our options further,” Sam replied, but it was without heat.  His gaze was steady, though, and his jaw set.  “For now, shall we assign Takashi some quarters?”

“I think that would be best,” Cartra agreed.  “Holt, will you take him?”

Matt nodded.  “Yeah, I can do that.”  He glanced at his father, and something passed between them.  With that, he helped Shiro up, taking some of his weight and using the staff to help counter-balance.  “There’s a room near mine, you can have that one.”

As Shiro was ushered out the door, he craned his neck back, trying to listen in on the conversation.  But the door shut, completely blocking off the noise.

“Okay, you are going to have to do some more of the walking yourself,” Matt said, voice strained.  “I’ve gotten stronger, but you’ve also gotten way heavier.”

Focusing, Shiro nodded.  “Yeah, sorry.”  The hallway wound deeper down, lit by strings of light like an old-fashioned mine.  “Can I ask a personal question?”

“We just interrogated you to hell, and you saved my life.  Yeah, you can ask a personal question, don’t be ridiculous.”

Shiro winced.  “Yeah, well- I’m just surprised, is all.  That wasn’t as much of a fight as I thought you’d put up.”

Ducking his head, Matt took a deep breath.  “I learned to pick my battles, and it wasn’t a surprise.  Dad will argue them better than I will.  They’ve got a soft spot for him.  Besides, I knew when I took this post what I was getting into.”

Stomach chilling, Shiro frowned.  “Uh.  I’m not sure what that means.”

They paused in front of a room. Matt hesitated, then nodded to the door. “Okay, this one is mine.  So this one across the hall is going to be yours.  We should probably getting you a change of clothes, while we’re at it, right?”  Matt tapped the console to Shiro’s room.  Inside was a small, bare room, with a cot and a desk, but nothing else.  

“Matt?  Wait.” Shiro pulled back enough to see his face better.  “What does that  _ mean?” _

Sighing, Matt gave him a thin smile.  “It means I learned to compartmentalize a little.  You don’t stay a rebel if you don’t offer to pull your weight.  I couldn’t keep up bucking every authority figure forever just because it was funny, right?”  He shook his head.  “I knew I wasn’t going to see Mom or Katie for a long time when I agreed to this.  But I knew they’d keep me alive until I could.”

Shiro sat down on the bed, still staring at Matt.  When he’d taken the helmet off, he seemed so familiar.  But now, the gaunter cheeks and the scar seemed start, reminding Shiro that this was a very different person.  “And they have.”

“My debt isn’t paid,” Matt replied.  “We’ll do our best, but, Shiro- we’re on the edge of the known universe, far from most contact.  We’re tracking Galra movement out here, not catching the latest game.  Our broadcast signals take a long time, and they’re emergency only.  This wasn’t supposed to be a weekend job.  No one is coming to replace us for nearly four years.”

...Years?

“Oh,” Shiro replied, voice very small.

It wasn’t just that they were unwilling to try.  It was that the signal would take so long to get to anyone, and Shiro couldn’t guarantee the castle was even there to listen.  He didn’t feel like the rest of the team was hurt - had to believe it, even.  But Shiro didn’t know if they’d been scattered again.

Which meant-

For the moment, Shiro was stuck.

“Oh.”

Sighing, Matt sat down next to Shiro on the bed.  Their arms pressed together, metal against flesh.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.


	3. Take the long way home

“You know,” Shiro mused, staring up at the ceiling.  He sprawled on the bed, hands folded over his stomach and feet hanging off the edge of the mattress.  “I was going to jump you with questions the second I could.”

Matt rolled his shoulders and looked down at Shiro.  For lack of anywhere else, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, but he seemed content to let him process for the moment.  “You still can.”

“Turns out, I’ve got a lot more time than I thought, though.  Kinda kills the urgency.”

Sighing, Matt ran a hand through his hair.  The longer strands curled stubbornly between his fingers, dragging and slowing it down.  “I don’t know what to tell you.  I don’t know what you want to hear.”

That made two of them.

The problem was, Shiro could guess at half-answers to the questions he really wanted to know.  Matt wasn’t in that room arguing with Cartra and Dranel because Sam was doing a better job than he would.  Matt had agreed to stay on this little planet for so many years because it would keep himself and Sam safe until they went home.  He wasn’t bucking orders because he actually respected the people giving them, and trusted in their necessity.

Everything felt so secondary.

“I could ask you questions instead,” Matt pointed out flatly.  “We can have that conversation you don’t want to deal with.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

This time, Matt flopped down next to him.  And for a moment, pressed side by side in a small bunker bed, the walls dark and metal, just slightly too cold for Shiro’s taste-

It was so familiar.

But Matt’s draped outfit kept catching on Shiro’s armor, and he was so much bulkier than he’d been before.  While Matt hadn’t been out of shape, no matter how much they joked about it, he hadn’t had nearly so much muscle mass.  Worse, he seemed content to lay there quietly, rather than filling the room with idle chatter.

It was all so unfamiliar.

Looking over, Shiro took in the shape of Matt’s jaw, pale and bright in the dim lighting.  “How’d you get the scar?”  He finally asked.

Matt reached up, brushing over it absentmindedly.  “If I answer, can I ask about yours?”

Flinching, Shiro looked away.  “I don’t know most of them.  But you can ask, yes.  Me first.”

“Alright.”  Matt stretched out further, the tips of his boots pointing to the wall before he relaxed.  “It’s from when they got me out.  Dad and I went to the same mining colony, but different sections.  They probably- well, there’s a few reasons not to keep us together.  We can communicate, we were likely to rebel for each other, that kind of thing.”  He smiled, a nasty expression.  “They were right.”

Shiro watched, eyes rolling over the sharp profile of Matt’s nose, the same curve and shape as Pidge’s.  “Com- Sam said he got you out.”

“Dad talked.  He talked to everyone.  Learned their languages as much as they could, asked about their cultures, learned a little about everyone who was game to try and have a conversation with him.  You know how Dad is.  His life’s work and all that.  He still goes starry-eyed over alien worlds and lives, the little differences.”  Matt stared at the ceiling, gaze distant.  “I have no idea how he does it.  I have no idea how I survived without it, those months.  Somedays, the fact that he’s still excited...”  Shaking his head, Matt closed his eyes.

He didn’t finish his sentence.

He didn’t have to, either.  It was so easy to fall into the darkness, in the black void of space.  It was easy to forget a life before, forget caring about anything but the next day, forget having a dream and interests and how  _ big _ this would have felt.  They were all so distant from the people who had flown to a moon to learn one  _ scrap _ of information about possible life.

Shiro continued to stare, unwilling to move his head away.  The differences and similarities in Matt’s face were fascinating, and right now he could stare his fill without feeling strange.  That wouldn’t last long.  Propriety would come back, but shock and disappointment kept them at bay for now.

“I’m guessing he found some rebels,” Shiro said.

Matt nodded, lips curling up at the corners, achingly familiar.  “Oh, yeah.  Worse, Dad’s a genius.  He figured out Galra tech easily, made himself useful, even as he started to get sick.  The mines were never meant for someone like Dad.  He was already older, and the dust of it... he still gets coughing fits.  He twisted his leg badly, apparently, and it just never healed right.  He’s doing okay, these days, but...”  Matt took a deep breath.  “So he offered his services helping, in exchange for getting me out.  They decided to get us both in one go.”

“What about the...”  Shiro tapped his own cheek.

“Oh, right, yeah.  Got too close to the explosives they used to blow us an exit, that’s all.  Got nicked.  I’m lucky it didn’t get me between the eyebrows.”  Matt tapped the middle of his forehead.  “All that work, gone.”

Laughing, Shiro finally looked away, staring at the ceiling too.  “Man, imagine that eulogy.  Here lies Matthew Holt.  Killed by irony.”

Matt snorted.  “What a way to go.”  He leaned over and smiled, eyes crinkled at the edges.  Turning over on his side, he curled up, like they were at a sleepover or something and sharing secrets.  “My turn now, right?”

“Yeah, your turn.  Is it the nose scar?”

“I guess it’s a little obvious, but yeah.”  Matt’s hand came up, and he paused a few inches away.  “Can I touch it?  Is that weird?”

Shiro considered.  “It’s a little weird.”  But it was Matt, and it was the scar Shiro was most used to seeing.  So he turned and offered his face.  “Go for it.”

The pads of Matt’s fingers, rough from the gloves, just barely brushed the skin.  Shiro couldn’t really feel them at all, between the light touch and thick, gnarled skin.  Matt started from one end, curving along the bridge of Shiro’s nose, then tapping one finger at the far side’s point.  “You remember it?  It doesn’t look like it’s from a fight.  It’d be more on one side than the other.”

“I don’t,” Shiro replied.  “Haven’t even had nightmares about it.  You’re right, it doesn’t seem like I got it in combat.  Maybe a muzzle, or someone held me down and did it on purpose.”

Matt shivered, pulling his hand back.  “Shiro-”

“No.”  Shiro lashed out, kicking Matt’s boot.  “Don’t.”

“I can’t help it, Shiro!”  Matt shoved himself up, staring down at him.

Somehow, that ruined the strange atmosphere they’d managed to develop.  Shiro’s stomach dropped as he stared up at Matt.  “You really can.  Simply close your mouth.”

“When has that ever worked with me?”

Shiro’s fingers dug into the blanket below him.  “What’s one more thing that’s changed?”

Freezing utterly, Matt tensed.  “We’re not that different.  We’re the same people.”

Eyes burning, Shiro set his jaw.  “Are you sure about that?”

Silence.  Wounded, aching silence.  But Shiro refused to feel bad about the truth.

“Yes,” Matt finally replied, fierce and low.  “I am.  You think a scar and a prosthetic make you a different person?  You’re the same pilot you were, and you’re the same mother hen you were, and you’re the same person your duckling would follow to the edges of the universe, and you’re still Takashi.  You’re still my friend.”  He paused, blinking rapidly.  “Am I still yours?”

Shiro sat up in a flash, his heart feeling too big and fast to fit in his chest.  “Yeah.  You’re still my friend.  I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Good.  You jackass.”  Matt pulled him in roughly, a one-armed squeeze, then let him go again before Shiro could do more than feel the heat of him.  “And because I’m the same person, I want to talk about this.  You said I could thank you.”

All this time, and still stubborn as a damn mule.

Somehow, frustrating as it was, Shiro found himself smiling.

“You already did.  Done.  The contract wasn’t for more than one thanking session.”

Matt rolled his eyes and punched Shiro on the shoulder.  Which actually hurt, both from Matt’s increased strength and Shiro’s current injury.  Not that he was going to  _ show _ that.  “You didn’t specify that in your documentation,” Matt said.  “And you didn’t make a written contract, so it’s my word against yours.  In this court, I’m a known, trusted entity.”

“And I’m not,” Shiro agreed, even if it made his stomach twist.  “Damn.  Stupid legal loopholes.”

“All court cases are something like 60 percent judge preference,” Matt told him cheerfully.  “Gotta pick your battles better, Starshine.”

Shiro froze.  Slowly, his eyes met Matt’s.

Matt stared back, his brow furrowed.  “What?  Did you not know that?”

“No.  I mean, I didn’t but- you called me Starshine.”

Looking him over, Matt moved in.  “Did you hit your head?  I always call you that.  It’s where your head is, remember?  Where the starlight comes from.”

Shiro flapped an impatient hand.  “I remember that.  But you haven’t called me that the whole time we’ve been here.  I don’t think you used one insulting nickname, either.”

Mouth working, Matt’s brow furrowed.  “Oh.  I guess I haven’t.  They’re not as much fun when only dad gets the joke.  I got out of the habit.”  His shoulders slumped. “I guess things are different.”

On the other end of the argument, Shiro could understand why Matt had reacted so strongly.  It was disheartening to watch.  Worse, Shiro didn’t even know how he’d ended up flip-flopping like this.  “Not that different.”

Before Matt could respond, there was a quiet beep.  He held up a finger, then tapped a spot of orange on the front of his uniform, right in the center of the collar.  “I’m here.  What’s up?”

_ “The burrowers are back,” _ said Cartra’s voice.

Matt dropped his head forward, groaning.  “Alright.  But I have Shiro here, and I’m supposed to keep an eye on him.”

_ “Bring him with you,” _ Cartra replied, not sounding interested.   _ “It would be wise to introduce him to the realities of this planet.  You may also want to teach him the virtues of not touching strange objects.” _

Jeez, Shiro was never going to live that down.  Even the aliens were giving him shit for it.

Nose crinkled, Matt considered.  Then he nodded.  “I mean, I could leave him in his room.  He doesn’t have codes for getting in and out, yet.  Shiro?”

“I don’t want to be locked in a little room alone,” Shiro replied, utterly flat.  “If I have options, and all.  What’s a burrower?”

Matt cocked his head to the side.  “Yeah, you should probably know.  We’ll get you kitted up Hey, Cartra, be on standby?  Just in case.”

_ “Always.” _

On standby for what?

But Matt hopped off the bed and offered Shiro a hand.  “C’mon, let’s go play Caddyshack.”

Shiro took Matt’s hand.  “What’s a Caddyshack?”

“Oh, Shirogane, are we sure you aren’t an alien after all?”

***

“You could have just called them gophers,” Shiro muttered later.  This close to the surface, he could actually hear the wind whipping around outside, echoed oddly through the thin hallways.

Matt snorted.  “Gophers does not fully explain what an awful pain these things are.”

“And Caddyshack does?”

Matt mimed hitting Shiro on the back with his staff.  “It would if you’d watched it.  Everything feel good?”

The sudden topic change made Shiro blink, not sure what feeling good had to do with a movie about golfing.  Then he realized Matt meant the new outfit - nearly identical to his, in mostly blues and draped fabrics.

“Yeah, it’s comfortable.  Kind of baggy.”  He tugged at the collar, discomforted by the sheer volume of fabric.

Matt snorted.  “With all the skintight clothes you wear?  I’ll buy that.  Don’t worry, there’s only me to impress, and I’ve seen it all already.”

Rolling his eyes, Shiro considered reaching out and stealing Matt’s staff.  But even the idea of doing that made his shoulders ache, and Matt would probably smack him with it in retribution.  “I don’t know about only you.  Cartra seems interesting.”

That earned him a smirk.  “You are barking up the wrong tree, my friend.”

“Oh.  Because of my species or because of my gender?”

Matt tilted his head, considering.  “Definitely gender, I’m not sure about species.   I didn’t actually ask, it just came up talking about home.”  He eyed Shiro.  “Not Dranel or the twins?”

“Definitely not the twins.”  Shiro shuddered, thinking of their calculating eyes and interest.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Matt frowned.  “You okay?  Did something happen?”

Shiro winced, uncomfortable with being that transparent.  “No, I’m just not thrilled with being treated like a specimen.”

Despite the flip tone, Matt’s eyes were far too knowing.

Dammit.

“And Dranel doesn’t seem to like me very much,” Shiro continued, barrelling through the conversation before there could be  _ questions. _

Matt inclined his head.   “He’s exactly as paranoid as he needs to be,” Matt replied.  “It’ll probably take some time for him to get used to you.”

“We’ve got time,” Shiro replied back, tone darkening.

Landmines.  Every conversation was nothing but landmines, where the only hope was to throw stones and hope that what went off was far enough away to avoid serious danger.

Finally, they came to a much larger doorway.  The room was huge, wide enough to house a stadium.  There was a half-wall edge, and then a sheer drop.  Glancing over the bottom, Shiro whistled.

The sound echoed, and echoed, on and on down what had to be a several hundred foot drop.

“That’s a safety hazard,” Shiro muttered.

Matt snorted.  “There’s a wall, see?  Mind the gap.”

“Should there be signs or something?”

“What regulatory body do you think you’re going to complain to?”

Shiro considered that.  “Sam.”

That earned him a jab from the staff, this time in the center of Shiro’s chest.  “Don’t start with him.  He gives me enough heart attacks, you don’t need to encourage him.  I swear, all that rebellion he couldn’t have at the Garrison or with the Galra is coming out these days.”  

“Good for him,” Shiro replied, openly grinning.

Matt only rolled his eyes and took his bag off his back.  He pulled out a small device, thin and round not unlike a frisbee, and held it up for Shiro to see.  “Okay, this is a sound transmitter.  When I hit the button at the top, it’s going to play a loud noise, but one that’s beyond human hearing.  The waves can still hurt from long exposure.  If your ears or head start to hurt, let me know and head back out into the hallway.  The burrowers hate it, though.  It should make them turn tail and head back away from the base’s tunnel system.”

Nodding, Shiro eyed it, and then Matt.  “Why should?”

“Figures that’s the word you’d pick out.”  Matt tossed the device in one hand, catching it along the edge as it spun.  “Sometimes, if they’re too close, it makes them aggressive instead of scared.  In that case, they’ll attack.”

“Well, they’re gophers, right?  I think we can handle gophers.”

Matt’s brows rose.  “Six foot gophers with fangs and claws.  And weird gross faces.”

Okay, slightly worse than gophers.

Shiro worked his hand, then tried to turn it on again.  This time, he wasn’t surprised by the pain, and managed to keep it on.  Being far away from that meteorite helped, though Shiro could still feel the shivers of it.  Occasionally.  When his arm didn’t feel like it was trying to melt off.

He let it go with a sigh.  “I’m not sure how effective I’ll be,” Shiro admitted, gaze on his shoes.

“I do this pretty often,” Matt said.  “It’s not likely to be a problem, so don’t worry.  And, hey, it’d be my time to save you from a monster.”

Dammit.  Shiro had been hoping Matt would just drop it. “We’d be even.”

“Hell no,” Matt replied.  Without another word, he tapped the button and threw it over the half-wall, where it plummeted.

At first, nothing happened.  Then Shiro heard an awful grinding noise, like rocks being rubbed into rubble.

Matt frowned.  “Yeah, that’s close for comfort.  I guess we missed some perimeter signals while we were dealing with our intruder.”

“So, you think...?”

“Maybe take a few steps back.”

Before Shiro could react to the suggestion, there was a rumble from above.  Shiro ducked, falling into a fighting stance automatically, just as  _ something _ burst out of the rocky ceiling right over their heads.

Gopher was as good a name as any.  It had that rounded, fat body that Shiro associated with them, or maybe moles.  Something like that.  Their claws weren’t long and slender, but wide and serrated at the ends, like a very violent shovel.

Then there was the face.

Gross was the right word.

There were no eyes at all.  Instead the snout extended, black and shiny, like it was made out of plastic instead of flesh.  Toward the end, it erupted into a mess of tentacles, each about as long as Shiro’s forearm.  They writhed and twitched as the creature landed.

The whole thing shuddered and tensed, then launched at them with surprising speed.

Or, surprising for Shiro.  Matt reacted instantly, moving into the path and swinging hard.  His staff smacked the burrower in the shoulder, hard enough to send it veering in the wrong direction.  The charge continued, until the creature smacked into the half wall like a wayward boar.

Huh.

Before Shiro could even process what the hell he just saw, there was another rumble just to their left. Another one of the burrows plowed their way out, screeching wildly.  They moved out of the rock far more quickly that Shiro was comfortable with, and charged.

Shiro didn’t have time to think.  Instead he just reeled back and  _ punched. _

The arm lit just before he made contact, searing through the tentacles on the creature’s face.  It squealed in pain, but it was far too late to stop the momentum.  It crashed into Shiro, flattening him to the rocks as the heavy creature tumbled over him.

_ Ow. _

Then there was the sound of flesh being impacted above him, and the creature rolled away, still crying out in pain.  When Shiro could see properly again, Matt was standing over him, staff extended and expression fierce.

It was-

Shiro thought of Matt’s terrified expression that awful day.  The way he’d curled in on himself, arms so skinny, shaking just barely enough to see even several feet away.  How Shiro had taken one look at him and thought that Matt wasn’t meant for this.  He was all sharp tongue and bright eyes.  Not a fighter. Not someone who deserved to stand in an arena against a monster.

Now-

Now Matt hopped over Shiro and ran at the wounded burrower, no hesitation or fear.  His staff spun in his hands, a disorienting blur, before the edge plunged into the wounded, burned skin.

Automatically, the creature reared away, hitting their back on the wall.  It’s claws slashed through the air, trying to regain balance.

Matt jumped high and kicked off the creature’s face.  The force of him knocked it over the wall and down the cliff, shrieking the whole way.  Shiro never heard an impact, only a scraping noise, so he assumed the creature had burrowed away instead.

Matt landed on his feet, staff crossed defensively over his chest.  “You okay back there?” He called.

“Yeah,” Shiro replied.  “Mostly startled.”  And a little squished, which wasn’t doing great things for his back.  But whatever Matt had applied had helped, because he was able to climb back to his feet and move to stand next to Matt.

The unified front of opponents was enough to convince the remaining burrower it wasn’t worth it.  Turning, it planted both claws on the half wall and vaulted off.  It hit the opposite wall like a torpedo, sticking in by the claws, and in a few seconds it had made a hole and slipped through.

At the end of the day, not much of a fight.  The lizard beasts from the barren planet Shiro and Keith had been stuck on were worse.

Shiro had also been more injured then, and they had been carnivores.  It might have made the difference.

Setting the end of his staff on the ground, Matt looked Shiro over.  “You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m good,” Shiro replied, waving him off.  “I’ll be better when my arm is fixed.  But you don’t have to look out for me.”

Matt rolled his eyes.  “Yes, you’re very tough and independent, you never need help ever.  You could have handled it, but I do this at least once every few weeks.”

Making a face, Shiro eyed the two new holes in the rock.  “Should we do something about that?”

“I will later.  There’s a device for it, but it’s big and heavy so I don’t bring it unless I have to.  The fight and the device will keep them away for a while.”  Matt patted Shiro on the shoulder.  “Leave the mess for someone else to clean up.”

That was a foreign concept, really.  “Well, I don’t have a job around here, so I can do that.”

This time, the hand on his shoulder shoved him forward, pushing Shiro toward the hallway.  “You don’t have a job yet because you’re under house arrest, Shiro.  And you don’t need to, so relax.”

“You remember how well I relaxed on the trip to Kerberos.”

Matt nodded, acknowledging the point.  “Well, you’ve got a great excuse to learn now.  Especially while your arm is on the fritz.”  He eyed Shiro.  “You can go to Dad for help, but the twins will really be able to help more.  Taki especially.  Small scale Galra engineering is their specialty.”

Dammit.

“We’ll start with Commander Holt,” Shiro decided.  “For now, maybe a shower.”

“Probably a good idea,” Matt agreed.  “You’re a little dusty.  We should call you Blue instead of White.”

“Hilarious.”

Matt hummed, clearly thinking he was.  He brushed off Shiro’s human arm, causing a small shower of navy pebbles and dirty to come loose from the fabric.  Then he started down the hall.  “I’ll show you where the baths are.  Probably should have been one of the first things I showed you, huh?”

Following over, Shiro glanced over his back, then back to Matt.

Now that he was looking, there was a difference to Matt’s gait.  His back was straighter, his shoulders moved more with each step.  He’d always been confident, but this was a different kind.  It said he could handle whatever cropped up, even on this alien planet.

This time, Shiro could only find the change good.

Matt wasn’t someone Shiro had to protect anymore.  He could fight beside him, but he had become someone who didn’t need anyone to sacrifice for him.

That was good, but it was also bittersweet.

Shiro had been the one to teach Matt that.

Dammit, if he wasn’t having this conversation out loud, he definitely wasn’t going to have it with himself in his head.

Grinding his teeth, Shiro sped up to match Matt’s pace.


	4. Hit you cool and hot

“There’s not much more I can do with this,” Sam admitted, setting down his tools.  “I’m sorry, Takashi.”

It wasn’t a surprise, but Shiro’s stomach still dropped.  “Yeah, I figured.  You helped, at least.” He activated his arm and made a fist.  

Now, it didn’t feel like Shiro was melting from the inside.  Sam had replaced several wires and checked the connection of as much as he could.  Instead, it felt like Shiro was holding his palm over a stovetop - uncomfortably warm, and definitely flirting with danger, but not quite damaging yet.

Sam nodded back.  “I can speak to Taki for you,” he offered.  “If you tell me why you’re reluctant to work with them.”

Ugh.  The only thing worse than dealing with the twins was telling everyone why he didn’t want to spend time with either of them.  “I’ll manage,” Shiro replied.  “I’m just not looking forward to sitting there for an extra hour while they get distracted over every little thing.”

Snorting, Sam inclined his head.  “You’re not wrong.”  His eyes roamed over Shiro’s face, all too careful and knowing.  “How are you settling in?”

“As well as I can be, considering,” Shiro said, shrugging.  “I’m still here, and I’m still injured.  Frankly, I’m getting bored.”

Sam barked out a laugh.  “Some things don’t change.  At least this base has gravity.  You could play card games.”

“I need cards, first.”

“I could probably arrange something.”  Sam smiled.  “It’d be nice to have someone to play with.  I think I could get Dranel to agree to a game.  Spending some time socially with you would help.”

Shiro crinkled his nose.  “Are you sure?  Meals haven’t been helping.”  

To be fair, Dranel wasn’t outright hostile.  He was just... nervous was probably the best word.  If only because ‘skittish’ wouldn’t win Shiro any brownie points.

It had already been nearly a week and a half.  So far, Shiro had slept, eaten, chatted with Matt, swapped stories with Sam, and asked for stories about the original paladins from Cartra.

Dranel, on the other hand, remained distant, and Shiro was still uncomfortable and careful around the twins.  They kept asking him too direct questions about his arm and no amount of ‘I don’t remember’ seemed to satisfy them.

At least it wasn’t actively malevolent.  Shiro was starting to recognize that the twins were a force of engineering prowess, rivaling even Pidge and Hunk’s combined genius.  They were just curious, and very bad at dealing with it.

Maybe if Shiro finally gave in they’d leave him alone.  Maybe they’d get worse.  It was hard to say.

“Meals are work time,” Sam replied.  “It’s one of the few times we get everyone together.  A little one on one, maybe with a warm drink- I think it’s worth a shot.”

Shiro tilted his head. “Alright,” he replied. “But no blackjack.”

Sam cursed.  “Ruin my fun, why don’t you.”

“I try.  I make it a point to avoid that game with anyone who counts cards.”  Shiro smiled back, relaxing despite the topic of conversation.

This wasn’t the same man that had lead them to Kerberos, the just as Shiro and Matt weren’t.  Sam seemed easier than he had before.  Maybe it was the lack of a military rank between them, or how Shiro himself had relaxed from perfect military respect.  

Shiro also got the feeling that Sam was nostalgic.  A hungry kind of lonely, eager for every scrap of his life before.  

It made Shiro’s chest burn in frustration that he couldn’t reunite the Holts - or, at least, the three in space.  Pidge deserved her family back.  They all did.

Pulling his arm into his lap, Shiro tapped his natural fingers on the casing.  “When this is fixed, and if Dranel ever feels comfortable enough to let me off my leash, then what?”

“I suppose we teach you to work the monitoring equipment,” Sam replied.  “You’re already helping Matt with the burrowers, which is helpful.  The twins have their projects, if you feel like assisting them with documentation.  They’re awful at keeping up with progress reports.”

That was all so small.

It was a nasty thought, but Shiro was used to making a difference.  He was used to Voltron and his team, who freed planets in a day, who saved ships and civilizations, who won huge battles against Galra fleets.

This was such a downgrade.  Honest, necessary work.  Information that kept rebels alive and out of the Galra’s way.

But _small._

“Takashi?”

Looking up, Shiro managed a smile for Sam.  “Yeah.  Whatever I need to do.”  He paused, the expression falling off his face.  “What did Cartra and Dranel say?  When you argued with them.”

Sam sighed, tapping his cane on the stone floor.  “Arguing is a strong word.  I simply spoke for the necessity or contacting Voltron, no matter the cost.  You’re an important element of the weapon that apparently defeated Zarkon, after all.”

“Not that important,” Shiro admitted.  It wasn’t in his best interests to fight it, but this was _Sam._  His daughter was a member of that team, and he should know she wouldn’t be struggling.  “They’ll manage.  Keith can fly Black, I know he can, and everything else will come together.”

Assuming they were all at the castle.

Assuming no one else was hurt in the shuffle.

Assuming, assuming, assuming.

It was all Shiro could do.  If he believed they were alright hard enough, maybe his dreams would leave him alone.

“Even so,” Sam replied, undeterred.  His fingers were still tight around the top of his cane.  “If we can be in contact with Voltron or that Blade group, we can be more effective.  We can have allies.  But it’s simply not a reality of the equipment, not really.  Not without a guarantee they’ll be able to hear.”

That wasn’t the answer Shiro wanted to hear, but it was the one he expected.  It didn’t make it taste less bitter.

From the thin press of Sam’s lips, he felt it too.

“We’ll think of something,” Shiro finally replied.  “And if nothing else, I’m sure they’re safe and doing well.”

Sam took a deep breath.  “I’m sure they are too.  From what you’ve said, they had a very good basis to start from, and they have you to think for that.”

Barking out a laugh, Shiro shook his head.  “They have themselves to thank.”

“Takashi, just accept my appreciation.”

Why did Matt and Sam both want that so desperately?  What good did it do anyone?  

“Not when I made the call to send your daughter into deep space,” Shiro replied darkly, looking at his feet rather than at Sam.

Something cold and metal touched Shiro’s chin.  He jolted, arm coming up automatically, but it was just the tip of the cane.  

Sam pushed up, making Shiro meet his eyes. “You didn’t know what you were getting into.  You didn’t plan for any of this.  And you did your best in circumstances that were unthinkable.  So stop beating yourself up and swallowing guilt you didn’t earn.  Trust me, Takashi, if you were at fault for any of this, I would have no problems kicking your ass.”

The threat was absurd, between Sam’s less-that-stable health and Shiro’s weaponized body.

But he look in Sam’s eyes was so serious that Shiro believed it.

“Yes, sir.”

This time, Sam didn’t argue the title.  Instead he dropped his cane and smiled.  “Shall I speak to the twins for you?”

Fine, fine.  Shiro took a deep breath and nodded.  “Taki is the prosthetics one?  They’ll be able to fix my arm?”

“Fix, and determine any additional functionality,” Sam replied.  “No one better.  At least, no one better who isn’t loyal to the Galra.”

Fair enough.

“I’ll speak to them,” Shiro replied.  “When I see them next.  Or Kitia.”

The answer was enough to make Sam nod.  “I’ll give you a couple of days,” Sam replied.  “I don’t want to force this on you, but I’m not going to have a choice.  We can’t let that continue to be a quest here, even in its current state.”

Shiro made a face, but didn’t argue.  That was the best he had, at the moment.

“Alright, you’re free to go,” Sam said, patting him on the shoulder.  “Matthew should be in the monitoring station now, if you’d like to spend time with him.”

Nodding, Shiro managed a smile.  “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”  With a quick wave, he stepped out of Sam’s little lab.

When he stepped into the hall, Shiro looked to the right, where the monitoring station was.

Then he turned on his heel and walked in the other direction.

***

Like most rooms in the cave system, the exercise room was small, with dark, rocky walls and bare lighting.  The only nod to its purpose was the mat over the floor, making it soft enough to land without breaking something or being cut on sharp rock.

Unlike the castle, this room wasn’t meant for training.  It was just for exercise, to keep muscles from atrophying on the five year mission.

It was also quiet.

Shiro worked his way through several stretches, working his shoulders over his injury.  It would have healed much faster if he hadn’t had a giant gopher land on top of him, but by now it was mostly back to normal.

Pulling over what seemed to serve as a punching back, Shiro started to circle it, as if it were an enemy that could hit back.  Once he’d gone a full 360 degrees, he pulled back and hit as hard as he could.

The bag jolted hard, the chain clanking against itself as it swung back.  The sound was so normal, after months of using the silent, passively floating Altean versions, that Shiro gave it another hard hit and closed his eyes to enjoy the sound.

It wasn’t anything like being back on Earth, not really.  Shiro would have no idea what to do with himself back on the planet.

But it was something he could enjoy anyway.

Shiro started to swing, trading off arms and giving the bag no time to still.  There was a noticeable difference between them both, his left hand hitting with a disappointing lack of force.  But that wasn’t surprising, since Shiro had be relying almost exclusively on the right arm for all combat and training.  He didn’t have a choice, not if he wanted everyone to come away from battles in one piece.

Well, now he had time to build his left arm back up, didn’t he?

Shiro scowled and drew back, hitting the back with all his might.

“Please refrain from breaking that,” a voice said, making Shiro nearly jump out of his skin.  “We do not have many replacements.”

Reaching out, Shiro stilled the bag, then turned to frown at Dranel.  He got a deep, thoughtful frown back.

Shiro swallowed hard, taking an absent step away.  “Apologies.  Is it that fragile?”

“No, but it is not meant to stand up to the strength of a Galra prosthetic,” Dranel replied.  “If that will be necessary, we can reinforce one, but for now you will need to take care.”  He crossed his thick arms, and the feathery ears on his head twitched unhappily.  “You are without your watchers.”

Grimacing, Shiro sighed.  “I know.  Sorry.  Sam told me to head back to Matt after the inspection.  I shouldn’t have wandered off.”

The words tasted bitter, and Shiro longed to punch the bag again.

Rather than continue scolding, Dranel stepped forward.  He picked up the bag’s stand in one hand and casually lifted it up and away, setting it back down against the wall.  Then he faced Shiro again.  “I will be your watcher.”

Great.

Shiro tensed, fingers twitching with the desire to make fists.  “I can go back with Matt, now.”

“Why did you not in the first place?”

Shiro took a deep breath.  “Boredom,” he replied, because ‘brooding’ was an even worse answer.  “Matt will be listening for a few more hours, and Sam has more important things to do than babysit me.  I was going to work off some energy, then go back.”

Inclining his head, Dranel widened his stance and raised his arms.  At well over seven feet and significantly broader than Shiro, he made an imposing figure.  “If you wish to work, you may spar me.”

Okay, Shiro had no idea what Dranel’s game was.  He clearly didn’t like Shiro, clearly still thought he was suspicious.  What did he gain fighting him?  Experience, maybe?  Trying to catalogue Shiro’s weaknesses to use against him?

It would make sense.

It didn’t make the offer less tempting.

Shiro hadn’t been this cooped up since the Galra, and even then he’d always been active.  Staying in these little dark rooms with their little dark hallways was going to make him lose it.

So he slid into his own fighting stance.  Taking a deep breath, Shiro started to circle, just as he had the bag.  Dranel matched him calmly, without any kind of haste.

Watching.

So much for a quiet little exercise room.

Shrio struck out suddenly, aiming for Dranel’s chest.  The first blow was easily blocked with a swipe of a hand.  But Shiro grabbed onto Dranel’s wrist and used his strength and size as a balance.  He jumped in the air, pushing off the arm, and kicked at his head.

Ducking the blow, but just barely, Dranel yanked his wrist back.  Shiro let go, tumbling to the mat and rolling with the movement, then darted back in.  Dranel brought his arms up defensively to block.

Instead, Shiro went low, kicking out at his legs.  The blow hit, making Dranel stumble.  He caught his balance and punched down.  Shiro kicked off the mat and only barely dodged the blow.  He used his stomach muscles and hands to push up off the mat.  Before he could get to his feet, a knee caught him on the side.

Shiro slammed back to the floor, but bounced to his feet quickly  He ran at Dranel again, eyes narrowed with single minded focus.

But this time, Dranel was more prepared for him.  He kicked out, pushing his offense while there was a break.  Shiro danced around that and continued his charge.  He jumped up and punched at Dranel’s head, only for his hand to be caught.  The huge fingers caught him up to the wris.

For a moment Shiro thought _Galra._ He thought _arena battle._

Then Dranel try to pull him in closer, but Shiro was already lashing out.  One foot landed on the ground, then immediately pivoted for a sidekick to Dranel’s stomach.  It hit, hard enough to knock the air out of him.  

Snatching his caught hand back, Shiro kicked low again.  This time he caught Dranel in the knees, and he went down on the floor with a heavy thud.

Shiro stood over him, right arm extended in clear threat, and his chest heaving.

For a long moment, Dranel only stared back at him, gulping in air.

Then he laughed.

“You... are something,” he managed, between more heavy breaths.  “You fight strangely.”

“I’m used to fighting big opponents,” Shiro offered, because that was the best explanation he had.  Compared to just about everyone else Shiro had seen win in the arena, he was tiny.

Sitting up, Dranel tilted his head.  “You fought like I would kill you.”

Shiro winced and stepped back.  “Not really,” he offered.  “I didn’t use the arm.”

Dranel nodded at that.  He stood back up and rolled his shoulders.  “You still fight aggressively.”

“Aggression is the point of a fight.”

The feathered ears twitched again.  “You have never simply sparred?”

Wincing, Shiro nodded.  “I have.  But usually our training was more serious.  I haven’t since-”  Well, maybe once or twice with Keith, but never in a relaxed way.  Not the easy trade of blows they used to.

Guilt churned in Shiro’s stomach, but he stomped it down.  He didn’t have _time_ to mess around.  Sparing with Keith was good for them both, but it was better if it served as functional training.  Not just an excuse to chat while doing something physical.

Dranel considered him.  “You feel confined.  Have you considered going up on the surface?”

Head snapping up, Shiro stared at Dranel incredulously.  “Of course not.”

“Why not ask Holt or Sam to take you?”

Indignation ignited in Shiro like a spark in thermite.  “Because you _trapped_ me here!  You made it clear I’m a prisoner, not a guest.  Why would I think I’m allowed anywhere?”

Dranel’s ears fluffed out and stood straight up.  “We are not the Galra.  Your needs will be seen to, even if I do not trust you.”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro met Dranel’s gaze.  “I’m still your captive.  And you don’t trust me, after everything.”

After all the battles they’d scraped out a win, after all the people they’d helped, after all the good they’d done-

Shiro was still trapped here, in this small dark place, with people who feared and contained him.

He might as well be the Champion again.

All of it for nothing.

The silence stretched out, as Dranel watched Shiro, and Shiro fought not to fold in on himself and show weakness.

“Come with me,” Dranel finally said, head held high.  “We will get you a helmet.”

Shiro twitched.  “Why?”

“The atmosphere is breathable, but the winds and chill make it unpleasant and difficult to communicate.  The helmet will make it easier.”

He meant-

“Okay,” Shiro replied, head still down.  He followed without another word.

***

The planet was smaller than Earth.  Shiro knew that already from pestering Matt about the conditions.  It was only barely within the habitable zone for its size, making the years longer.  The current rebels would be here for just over two rotations of the planet around its sun.

A storm raged above.  There was rarely a time of clear skies here, which was part of why it had been chosen.  The thick, energy-laden clouds and heavy winds helped disrupt any scans on the planet.

It didn’t make for pleasant walking conditions, but it was so much better than the cave system that Shiro didn’t care.

Dranel walked a half step behind him, close enough to stop Shiro from running but not truly _with_ him.

Oddly, that helped too.  Shiro didn’t want to be bumping shoulders with him right now.  Dranel was keeping him from trying to contact his team, no matter how sensible it was.  

“If you would speak to the twins, we would not have to keep doing this.”

The voice sounded like it was spoken directly in his ear.  Only long practice with Voltron’s comms kept Shiro from jumping.

Scowling over his shoulder, Shiro shrugged.  “Would it?  Sam already looked at it and that hasn’t made you less suspicious.”

“It has,” Dranel replied simply.  “I am here alone with you, after all.  You are unrestrained.  I sparred with you, or at least attempted it.”

Those were signs of softening?

Compared to the Galra, yes.  But that was a very low bar.

“Why will you not?” Dranel asked.  “What do you have to hide?”

“Nothing,” Shiro replied.  He crossed his arms, and wished the rebel uniform had pockets he could stuff his hands into.  “I just don’t like it.”

Under his helmet, Dranel’s ears weren’t visible.  But by the way he crossed his arms in return, Shiro suspected they’d be turned back.  “You wish to keep your privacy over your freedom?”

Wasn’t there some saying about giving up one for the other sacrifices both?

Either way, it wasn’t about that.

“It’s not about privacy.  I let Sam do it,” Shiro replied, looking out over the wind-swept rocks.

Without looking, Shiro could image Dranel’s nod.  “It is an objection to the twins, then?”

Dammit, why did everyone want to pick Shiro’s brains apart?  He missed the castle desperately, for so many reasons.  But right now, it was because they understood when Shiro didn’t want to talk about something.  Pidge and Hunk would mention a project, or Lance would crack a joke that distracted everyone, or Keith would just stand by his side and glare everyone down.  Done.

Part of Shiro suspected that hadn’t exactly been healthy.  But it was what made it possible to put one foot in front of the other.  He didn’t have _time_ to fall apart over the past.  Shiro needed to be functional more than he needed someone to pat him on the head.

The silence stretched out as Dranel waited for his answer.  He continued to stare, a steady, looming presence just behind Shiro.

Dammit.

“Yes,” Shiro finally replied.  “It’s not a personal objection.  They have nothing to fear from me.”

Dranel hummed, the noise echoing oddly in the helmet.  “But you have something to fear from them.”  He paused again.  “You don’t remember how you lost the arm, you said.”

“I have an idea,” Shiro shot back.  “And even if I don’t, my body remembers.”

That earned him more silence.

“I suppose I understand,” Dranel finally said.  “But this is not something I can compromise on.”

Shiro snorted.  “Of course not.”

That earned him a glare, one he could feel through the back of his head.  

“Sam and Holt both vouch for you,” Dranel replied, voice flat.  “While it has not been long, you have not shown undue curiosity.  Cartra has fact checked your story as much as possible.  I have said all this to you before.”

“That hasn’t made you like me.”

Dranel snorted.  “Liking you has nothing to do with this.  It’s simply reality.  I would do this if you were my closest companion.  I will not compromise the safety of this base and the people in it, no matter the cost.”

That, Shiro understood.

Let the twins play with his arm, or stay a prisoner.  Those were his options.

“If I continued to choose not to, what will you do?”

Dranel stepped closer, so they were side by side.  “Nothing would change.  You would continue to be monitored, and used in a limited capacity.  I suspect that is not agreeable to you.”

It really wasn’t.  Especially if this was really going to last years.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro nodded.  “Understood.  I can continue to come out here with a guard?”

“When there is time, yes.  And when the storms are not dangerous.”

Shiro nodded, because that was only reasonable.

Silence reigned again, and Shiro let it.  He felt no need to fill the space, and Dranel didn’t seem to either.

Shiro just wanted to enjoy being in a place that wasn’t so damn _small._

“May I offer a suggestion?”

Looking over, Shiro inclined his head.  “If you’d like.”

Dranel didn’t look at him, continuing to watch the brewing, bubbling stormclouds above.  “I am large,” he said.  “Bigger than most anyone who has had this post.  There are times the rooms seem to become even smaller than they physically are.  In these times, I take a Kel No Reem.”

Finally curious, Shiro tilted his head.  “What’s that?”

“It is a moment of stillness.  I calm my breathing and relax my mind.  Sometimes I only need a few minutes, sometimes over an hour.  But after, I do not feel so confined.”

That-

Oh.  Meditation.

“There’s something like that where I come from,” Shiro replied.  “Not something I’ve done very often, but I’m familiar with the concept.”

Meditation had never been something Shiro particularly subscribed to.  It was well and good, but when he tried, he always thought of something he should be doing.  Studying, working, training, building.  He’d always just gotten up and went to do whatever was bothering him, rather than sit around and dwell on it.

But now, when the things that bothered him were looming, distant fears?

There might be something to it.

“I am willing to show you, if you believe it might be helpful to you as well,” Dranel offered.  “I would prefer not to need to fight you again.  You are more of a fighter than I expected.”  He sounded reluctantly amused by the idea.

Shiro’s lips curled up, now that Dranel couldn’t see it through the mask.  “Or you could just let me go out on my own.”

“You could go to Taki and have both.”

Damn.

Shifting his weight, Shiro took a deep breath.

“Show me the Kel No Reem.”

***

It took till the end of Matt’s monitoring shift to come to a decision.

Knocking on the doorframe, Shiro gave him a wane smile.  “Hey.”

Turning in the seat, Matt frowned at him.  “Hey.  Where have you been?  I thought you’d come here after letting Dad look at your arm.”

“I was supposed to,” Shiro replied.  “I ended up spending it with Dranel.”

Matt’s brows rose.

“I was surprised too.”

It had helped, oddly.  It humanized Dranel, for lack of a better word.  He wasn’t just a scowling jailor, watching for Shiro’s mistakes to lock him in a smaller cage.  Kel No Reem wasn’t the answer to Shiro’s problems, but it wasn’t bad.  It took Shiro far too long to push past all the clanging, worried thoughts in his head.  The longer he stayed still, the harder they were to ignore.  Where was his team? What were they doing without him? Were they together, or were they scattered like Shiro?  Were they safe?  Did they miss him?

(The last one mattered more than Shiro wanted to admit.)

But it still helped.  Achingly slowly, Shiro was able to look at and compartmentalize the worries, acknowledge that there was nothing he could do about them except wait.  The best thing he could do was not bang his head into the wall until his brains came out.

It made him deal with the worries he couldn’t do anything about, and confront the ones he could.

Kel No Reem was nice, but it wasn’t enough.  Not for four years, if it came to that.

Shiro couldn’t stand being a prisoner anymore.  And if that meant dealing with the twins, he’d do it.

But, Shiro had also remembered he didn’t have to do it alone.

“It’s still a little early for dinner,” Matt finally replied, standing up.  “I can show you some of the equipment here in the meantime.”

“Actually,” Shiro replied.  “There’s something I need to do.  But I need you there.  I was going to get the arm looked into.  Fully.  But I can’t be there alone.”

Matt’s expression softened.  “I’ll be there was support, if you want.”

Wincing, Shiro nodded.  “Well, yes, but that’s not-  I don’t know exactly why this bugs me, but there’s probably a reason.  And if I push it, there’s a strong possibility I’ll react badly, without meaning to.”

Understanding brightened Matt’s eyes.  “You could have a flashback.”

Shiro took a deep breath, hand clenched hard around the doorframe.  “Yes.  And I could seriously hurt someone.  Them or myself.  If that happens, I need you to help.”

He didn’t say how, but hopefully Matt understood.  

Shiro was going to need to be restrained, possibly while he fought back with all he had.

This plan put Matt in the crossfire, which Shiro hated.

But he also trusted that this was a different Matt.  One that could hold his own. One that could do this for Shiro.

Stepping forward, Matt hesitated, then clapped Shiro on the shoulder.  “Whatever you need.”  His serious expression showed he knew what Shiro was getting out, and he still accepted.

“Thank you,” Shiro said, and meant it.

***

The session was exactly as bad as Shiro imagined it.

“Kitia, look at this,” Taki called.  They wore a pair of goggles, the lenses amber and too thick to see their eyes. It made them look vaguely insectoid, and the four, thin arms didn’t help.

Nodding, Kitia made a fascinated noise.  “Neuro-containment,” they agreed.  “Definitely interesting.”

“Masterfully made.”

“Of course.”

Swallowing hard, Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Matt was on his other side, barely a half foot away.  But it was hard to concentrate on that with the twins constantly speaking to each other.  Once Shiro had been settled into the chair and his arm opened, they’d totally stopped speaking to him.  Now, they fired off clinical, jargon-laden comments.  Shiro understood none of it, and neither stopped to explain.

Their words weren’t for his ears.

They cared about the arm, not about him.

 _She_ only spoke to the arm, not to Shiro.  He was just the body it was attached too.

Stomach rolling, Shiro took a deep breath, hissing air in through his teeth.  “Matt.”

“Gotcha,” Matt replied immediately.  “Hey, Kitia, Taki, how about a break?”

Pausing, Taki looked up and pushed the goggles off their face.  “We have barely begun,” the pointed out.

In response, Matt just gestured to Shiro.

Automatically, Shiro schooled his expression, terrified to show her- them, not her, them - that he was hurting.  They would just use it against him.  Haggar-

No, no no _no._

“We'll disengage,” Kitia said, voice growing serious.  Worried?  No, no one was ever worried about Shiro, something had to be wrong, what was wrong, what were they doing to him?

Shiro started to sit up, but someone pressed their forearm down over his shoulders.  Crying out, Shiro tried to kick off the chair, but his arm was held tightly in place.

Taki grunted, throwing their entire weight over the arm.  “He will harm himself!”  They said.  “We must remove the tools before he pulls away, it will damage him.”

“Just get them out as fast as you can,” Matt replied, voice strained.

What was he doing here?  Why- he was helping Haggar.  Why was Matt helping?  Did he hate Shiro now, after all he’d done?

 _“Matt,”_ Shiro cried, desperate, wounded.  “I can’t- don’t let her-”  He bucked again, and this time nearly got off the chair before Matt shoved him back down.  “Please, help!  What are you doing?”

Eyes bright and expression twisted, Matt climbed onto the chair with Shiro, trying to pin all of him down.  “I’m sorry, Shiro.  You have to stay still.  Just listen, stay calm, breathe-”

Shiro bucked again, hard as he could, and someone next to him let out a nervous shriek.  Shiro tried to activate the arm, but it wouldn’t listen.  When he tried to pull it back, it _hurt,_ like something being torn out of him.

“Let me go!”  Shiro tried to grab at Matt with his human hand, getting a fist full of draped fabric - _of robes._  But he resisted being pulled, continuing to hold him firmly in place.  “She’s hurting me!  Matt, please, I’m sorry, I was trying to help you.  Don’t do this to me.  Let me up!”

Above him, Matt’s face was red with the effort of keeping Shiro down, and his eyes were bright.  “I’m sorry, Sh- Takashi.  I’m so sorry.  Just stay still, stay calm.  It’ll be over in a- Taki, Kitia, c’mon!  I can’t hold him like this forever.”

“We’re trying!”  And at the same time, an identical voice, “it’s almost done!”

Something in Shiro’s arm _clipped,_ and suddenly the weight and pain were gone.  

Surging up, Shiro lit his arm, lips drawn back in a snarl and eyes unseeing as he tried to get the weight _off_ him so he could fight back, they couldn’t just have him, he wasn’t going to let them-

“Starshine,” Matt murmured, so soft and gentle.  

The weight on Shiro shifted, eased off.  Instead there were hands on his shoulder, no longer holding him down, just there.  Shiro blinked, and he could see Matt, practically in his lap, expression pained and worried.

Leaning forward, Matt pressed their foreheads together.  “Starshine, it’s okay.  It’s over.  Breathe with me.  You’re here.”

Shiro held his arm up, still prepared to strike.  But slowly, it sputtered out, and he dropped it in his lap.

This was Matt.  He couldn’t hurt Matt, no matter what.

Reality came back, molasses slow, but with painful clarity.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro murmured, pressing up against Matt’s forehead.  He closed his eyes against a threatening press of tears.  “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no no,” Matt reassured him.  “I’m okay, you just shook me around a little.  Are _you_ okay?  Jesus, Takashi, worry about yourself for once.”

Why would Shiro do that when he’d nearly _gored_ Matt?

But he hadn’t.  Hadn’t even hurt the twins, who he could still hear moving and breathing to Shiro’s right.  He didn’t look, couldn’t open his eyes, could only let Matt hold on.

“I’m okay,” Shiro replied.  Then he winced.  “Okay, no, I’m not.  But I’m here.”

“That’s enough for now.”

Matt finally pulled back and looked over at the twins.  After a moment’s desperate hesitation, Shiro did too.

Both Unilu looked deeply shaken.  Katai’s bottom left hand was clinging to Taki’s top right, and guilt was deeply etched into both their faces.

Taki swallowed hard.  “Did we harm you?” They asked carefully, voice soft.  “I don’t know what caused your pain.”

“It’s-”  Shiro choked on the word fine, because it obviously wasn’t true.   Matt’s fingers dug in, a threat if he finished the lie.  “Sorry.  How I got the arm was... bad.”

Kitia glanced at their sibling, biting their bottom lip.  Then they nodded.  “Perhaps we should not do this.  I’m sorry I did not notice your pain.  It was my job to monitor your biometrics, and I was distracted.”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro shook his head.  “No.  We need to.”

“Because of Dranel?”  Matt snapped. “I’ll talk to him.   _Dad_ will talk to him.  You don’t need to do this.”

But Shiro shook his head.  “No.  I do.”  Dranel was protecting his team.  If Shiro was going to be part of them for however long, he wanted to respect that.  He didn’t want to harm any of them either.

“Is there something we can do to make this easier?” Taki finally asked.  “We can play music, or change the lights, or have Sam here to speak.  Sam is very soothing to speak with.”

Unable to help it, Shiro gave a small smile.  Somehow, it was funny that Sam’s good nature and sharp mind were universally appreciated traits.

Looking at Matt, Shiro nodded to him.  “I think we can make this work.  Especially with Matt here.  He was a big help.”

Matt had been able to _pin Shiro in place._  Even if his arm had been deactivated for the procedure, that was a lot to ask of someone.  Shiro was so much larger than Matt.  It had taken serious force to keep him in the chair, made all the harder because they were friends.

Once upon a time, Matt wouldn’t have.  Even if he’d agreed, he wouldn’t have been able to keep Shiro down.  Hell, Shiro suspected he would have backed off quickly, scared of hurting Shiro or being hurt in turn.

The smart reaction, really.

But Matt could _handle him_ now.

It made something in Shiro’s stomach twist on itself.  He wanted to hold onto Matt and not let go for a few hours.

That someone could face Shiro down, and then still look like he was someone to protect?

It meant the world.  It meant the universe.

“I really will talk to Dranel,” Matt offered, a hint of his old fear hiding in his voice.  “If I can get Cartra to agree this is enough, he might back off.”

“I don’t want to,” Shiro replied.  “I should know, too.  I want to know what Haggar put inside of me.  And Taki and Kitia are the two who can tell me.  This time we’ll make a few changes, but it needs to be done.”

Matt nodded, deeply reluctantly.  Finally, he climbed off Shiro completely.  “I’ll stay right here,” he promised.  “Whatever you need.”

The room was cold without Matt against him.

Shiro shoved the thought back hard.  Inappropriate, and probably a result of his churning emotions.  He’d be an adult about this, thanks so much.

So Shiro smiled back, easy and warm, then turned to the twins.  “Here’s what I want.”

This time, the twins didn’t ignore Shiro.  They explained their findings in clear ways, and if he was confused, he could ask, and they would answer.

This time, Matt didn’t hover to the side.  He held Shiro’s left hand tightly, speaking when the twins needed to concentrate.

This time, Shiro could ask for pauses before it got too bad, could take some time to move his legs in place and turn on his side, just to prove he wasn’t tied down.

This time, Shiro learned about the recording device in his arm, now charred and inactive.

This time, Shiro’s eyes filled with tears, just a little.

He was safe.

He wasn’t a prisoner anymore.

The rooms were still too small, the hallways still too dark.  But Shiro could _breathe_ again.


	5. Cavern of Secrets

“Your arm is feeling better?”

Glancing over at Cartra, Shiro offered a smile.  “Yes, a lot better.  The twins did good work with it.”

That was an understatement.  Shiro honestly hadn’t known the arm  _ could _ feel this good.  The engineering was too delicate and necessary for Pidge and Hunk to play with, and he supposed Haggar had no reason to make the experience pleasant.  Now, it seemed to be balanced better, and work just a fraction of a second faster.  

Cartra nodded, smiling back.  “I’m glad to hear it,” she said.  She leaned against the side of the monitoring station, watching Shiro calmly.  Almost fondly.

While Cartra had never displayed the open distrust of Shiro that Dranel had, it was still nice.  It was less like being their prisoner and more like being one of the gang.

Which, he supposed, he was now.

Nodding to the monitoring screen, Shiro leaned back in his chair.  “Is there anything in particular I’m supposed to be watching for?”  He asked.

Cartra shook her head.  “Other than an approaching vessel?  No.  All we’re doing is tracking movement.  You don’t have to do anything except mark when and where the fleets change location.  Perhaps if they seem urgent, you can mention it, but there’s very little we can do here.”

Nodding, Shiro sighed and tried not to think about how bored he’d be.  “Understood.  Well, I can certainly help with that.”  A particularly well-focused child could do this job, honestly.

“I’ll stay around for your first time,” Cartra offered.  “In case you’re unsure about how to work the console.  After that, you will be expected to monitor on your own.”

Also not a surprise, so Shiro nodded.  He’d never had a part time job before the Garrison .  He had never needed to, choosing to spend his time on extra curriculars and keeping his grades up.  But if he’d had to imagine what it felt like, he might have picked this feeling.  Being supervised while doing a menial task.

Shiro supposed he was getting paid in food and lodge.  He wished he was getting paid in the ability to get out a signal.

“Anything you wanted to go over?” Shiro asked, for something to say.  

Shaking her head, Cartra pulled over another chair.  “No, we went over most of it so far. Instead we can just talk.”  She leaned back, crossing her long, thin legs and wrapping her arms around the back of her chair.  “I wish to speak more about your paladins.”

Oh.  Shiro nodded, sitting up straighter.  Cartra had already had him tell stories of training and bonding with the lions, after all.  She seemed to enjoy hearing about being part of Voltron.  “Anything you wanted to hear?”

“The green paladin.  Holt and Sam’s family.  I wish to hear about her and the Green Lion.”

Nodding slowly, Shiro leaned back as well.  He kept an eye on the screen, but nothing was likely to change soon, and so long as it was recorded, it was fine.  There was nothing urgent about this.  Nothing important.  Just more data entry.

Dammit, Shiro needed to get out of this frustrated spiral.  Yes, this wasn’t as important as being the Black Paladin.  Time to  _ get over it. _

“Can I ask a question, first?”

Cartra’s brows rose.  “If you’d like, certainly.”

“Why do you call Sam by his first name, and Matt by his last name?” Shiro asked.  Idly, he tapped his natural fingers against the desk.

“Oh.”  Cartra tilted her head, thinking about it.  “It was never an intentional difference.  It is customary to call fellow agents by their last name, if they have one.  Neither Dranel nor I do, and the twins asked to be called by their first, since they share their last.  Sam is an exception.”

Shiro’s fingers paused.  “Why?”

“Because he is Sam,” Cartra replied, shrugging.  “I know that is not a satisfying answer, but it feels unbalanced to refer to him by a last name.  For us it is more... distant.  Is it the same on your planet?”

Nodding, Shiro leaned back in his chair.  “It is,” he agreed.  “I understand using family names to address people.  In Sam and Matt’s country, it’s not typical, but where I was born, it’s standard.”

“So you know the feeling.  When Sam cares so much about learning about our personal lives and our cultures, it is easy to become close to him,” Cartra replied.  “So he is Sam.”

And Matt hadn’t done that.  Once, he would have been just as excited as his father. Shiro too.

Now, he was speaking to an alien, using an alien computer, and all Shiro could feel was disappointment that he was with the  _ wrong _ humanoid, fairy-like aliens.  

“That makes sense,” he replied, offering a smile.  “Thank you for explaining, I was just curious.”

Cartra nodded.  “Understandable.  You have known them by other names.  Was there anything else you wanted to ask?”

Smiling at her barely muffled excitement, Shiro shook his head.  “No, time to fill my end of the bargain.  Uh- alright, I’ll tell you about finding the Green Lion, how’s that?”

Cartra nodded.  She didn’t quite manage to project her normal dignity.

Well, if an alien found him and had stories that related to Shiro’s great-great-great-great grandparent, he might be that excited, too.

So he described the planet that Pidge and Shiro flew to, the humid jungles and steady river.  He told her about how they reacted to the strange sloth-like creature (and then had to stop to explain what a sloth was).  He told her about the cave, covered in huge, glowing drawings.

“Who made them?” Cartra asked.  “The slon?”

“Sloth,” Shiro corrected idly, brow furrowed.  “You know, I never asked.  All of the lions had them, except for Black.  The same style, too.  I suppose the lions created them, somehow.”

Allura and Coran might have an explanation.  Shiro had never thought to ask.  No way to know, now.  

Nodding, Cartra waved a slender hand at him.  “Then what?”

Shiro smiled and continued on, telling her about finding the lion’s resting place, covered in vines over the last ten thousand years.  Cartra’s eyes were misty as she listened to how the lion accepted Pidge, roared to life and flew them to the castle. Flew them home.

“I believe my ancestor would have liked your Pidge,” Cartra told him.  “From what I have been told, she was not afraid to speak her mind, and had a sharp tongue.”

Laughing, Shiro nodded.  “They would have gotten along great.  Allura said that the Green Lion prizes a curious paladin.  I’m sure they’d have had a lot to talk about.”  He made a face.  “More than Zarkon and I ever did.”

Cartra nodded seriously.  “I imagine those were not productive conversations.”

“Lots of threats and posturing,” Shiro agreed.  “Nothing he’ll ever do again, I hope.”

Sighing, Cartra stretched her legs out in front of her, head tilted back.  “I wish I could confirm that for you.  We get news so rarely, and nothing has changed out here.  Our next update is scheduled in about fifteen quintents.  I hope we will be able to share something with you.”

“I don’t expect much to have changed,” Shiro said, eyes on the console.  “They’re not going to withdraw all their forces just because Zarkon is gone, much as it would have been nice.  So I keep fighting.  I was hoping the other paladins would get to go home, or go focus on other things.  Like finding the Holts.”

“Instead, the Holts found you.”

Barking out a laugh, Shiro nodded.  “Yeah.  Because I touched the weird rock.”

Cartra smiled, wide and sharp.  “I believe you have learned your lesson about that.  Maybe that could be your career after Voltron.  Professional safety hazard.”

“It was one time!” Shiro shot back, crossing his arms.  “And it’s fixed now, so no harm done.  Besides, you’re assuming I have a career after Voltron.”

Brows up, Cartra looked around pointedly.

Shiro’s cheeks colored.  “This isn’t on purpose.  And it’s temporary.  I might not be a paladin anymore when I get back, but I’m going to join up with them.  So long as they’re around and willing to have me.”

Both big questions.

“Why would you not be a paladin anymore?” Cartra asked, her brows rising.  

Shiro eyed her.  “Because Keith took over.  I know he did, so long as they’re all together.  And they’ll make Voltron work without me, either by bringing in someone new, or having Coran or Allura step in.  By the time I get back-”

In four years, Shiro will be a distant memory.  

He can’t imagine the castle and the lions and his team will fade from his mind.  Those months had been the most important of his life.  Shiro thrived on being part of something bigger.  It was why he loved the Garrison, why he’d fought so hard for his historic mission.  Voltron was bigger than everything else.

But that didn’t mean the opposite was true.

“I’m sorry,” Cartra said, quiet and honest.  “I truly am.  I wish there was more I could do.”

“It was probably inevitable,” Shiro replied.  “Keith will be great.  Whatever they do out there, I’m proud of them.  They’re going to do so much good, I know it.”

After only a couple of weeks, Shiro couldn’t read Cartra’s expressions well enough to understand the way her lips thinned and her brows twisted together.

He suspected it was pity, and he bristled.

“They will miss you,” Cartra finally said.  “It has only been a short time, but if you were to leave us now, I would miss you already.  To have spent so much more time with you, in so intense a way, I don’t believe the others would forget you so easily.”

Shiro took a deep breath and hated the words.  He hated the hope they ignited, and the painful, desperate need he felt to go home.

With his luck, if he managed, he’d only be there for a day before being dragged away again.

Okay, enough self-pity.

“Thank you,” Shiro replied.  “I’d miss you too.  Lucky for us both, I’m stuck here.”

Cartra’s smile was sad, but she nodded.  “I’m sure Sam and Holt enjoyed it when you told them that story.”

It was clearly an out, and Shiro was so painfully glad for it.  “Sam did.  I haven’t told Matt, yet.”

Now that he thought about it, Matt hadn’t really asked about the team at all.  Shiro had expected him to, but they’d been talking about other things, really.  

Huh.  That was weird.

“You should,” Cartra said.  “He would enjoy it.”

“He would,” Shiro agreed.  Before he could say more, the console blinked.  Shiro scooted in closer, making careful note of the number of ships moving where.  Cartra stood over his shoulder, supervising the notes he was taking.

The subject fell to the side.

For the moment.

***

Shiro was still thinking about the story at dinner that night.  The kitchen had a unfortunately low ceiling, meaning that Dranel had to duck his head to keep from scraping his ears when he stood.  But sitting at the square little table, with two more chairs than it could really comfortably accommodate, they managed.

This was the most routine time of their days.  The computer would be automatically logging movements, and they’d get an alert if anything changed.  But socializing was the best way help ward off cabin fever.

Slowly, reluctantly, Shiro was being drawn in.

The same way Shiro was used to Pidge and Lance playfully fighting over their favorite foods, or Hunk enthusiastically talking about what he’d used to recreate dishes from Earth, or the mice scurrying over Allura’s shoulders to beg for extra food, these people were becoming normal too.  

Taki and Kitia spoke in their personal language, laughing together and watching Dranel pointedly until he glared back and muttered about blasting them into space.  Matt eyed Sam’s plate and dragged over what was essentially mushed vegetables.  He wordlessly shoved the bowl over until Sam groaned and took more.  Cartra had a sketchbook on the table next to her, the drawing half-finished, but it looked like a detailed study of a burrower face.  

It was comfortable.

Shiro couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he started to feel like part of the group.

He didn’t like it.  He didn’t  _ want _ to be one of theirs.  This wasn’t where he was supposed to be.  They weren’t his family, but they were  _ a  _ family.  And they had taken him in.

Really, it was impossible not to be grateful for that.

“Shiro,” spoke Kitia, poking him with the edge of a fork.  “Cartra said you were telling stories.”

Smacking the utensil away impatiently, Shiro’s brows rose.  “Sure.  There’s not a whole lot else to do in front of that monitoring station.”

Raising his glass in a toast, Sam smiled.  “Agreed.”

Kitia pushed their bangs out of their face.  “Can you tell more?  I want to hear more about Voltron.”

“About the robot or about the team?” Shiro asked, bone dry.

Tilting their head, Taki smiled.  “About whichever.  We want to hear about what you used to do.”

“You look different when you talk about it,” Kitia said.  “You sit taller.  It’s interesting.”

Eyes wide, Shiro curled in on himself, as if to prove them wrong.  “Do I?”

“A bit,” Cartra admitted.  “You are proud of your position on that team.  It shows when you speak.”

Oh.  That wasn’t so bad.  Shiro still eyed the twins, not sure why they were interested.

But he had to admit, they didn’t mean harm.  They were just curious about the arm, and about Voltron, and about everything.  And they’d done him a big favor by proving, once and for all, that everything nasty in his arm was either burnt out or gone.  So maybe it was time to stop being so afraid of them.

Ducking his head, Matt snorted.  “Don’t pressure the poor man.  Shiro, if you don’t want to talk about it, everyone gets it.  Just say so.”

“I know,” Shiro replied, brows jumping.  “I- honestly, I don’t mind.”  It was like talking about Earth.  It hurt to know he was so far away from his home planet, but he still liked talking about it.  It reminded him of the good parts, made him feel connected.

Matt eyed him, then shrugged one shoulder and ducked his head.

Still weird.

“I would like to hear a story,” Dranel offered.  “We have heard each other’s already many times.  It would be good to hear something new.”  One side of his lips curled up, and his orange eyes darted to Sam.

Placing one hand on his chest, Sam snorted.  “I believe I’m affronted.  You’re sick of  _ my _ stories?  All my stories are wonderful.  Takashi, defend my honor.”

Shiro grinned.  “Why not Matt?”

“‘Cause he knows I won’t.  I’ve heard them all a hundred times, and they’re all boring.”  Matt yelped as his father smacked his arm.  “Hey!  It’s true!”

With just about everyone angling for entertainment, Shiro could really only give in.  “Alright.  How about... oh, we broke a genius out of a high security Galra prison.  Is that a good one?”

“Who?” Taki asked, eyes bright.  Their bottom two hands clapped together, while the top right continued to stir their soup.

Shiro’s expression fell, the grimace only slightly exaggerated for the sake of the story.  “Slav.”

Both twins looked at each other, mouths open, then snapped toward Shiro at the same time.  “You met  _ Slav?” _  Kitia asked, top two hands flapping through the air, as the bottom two gripped the table top.  “The Bytor?”

Oh, boy.  “Yes.  He helped us build the teleduv that separated Zarkon from his fleet.  He also decided he made an excellent, very heavy scarf and rode around on my shoulders.”

“You’re so lucky,” breathed Taki.  “No one has heard from Slav in  _ decapheobs.” _

“I wouldn’t say that,” Shiro replied.  “Because at the same time, the Blue Paladin, Lance, found this Yupper...”

Shiro leaned back as he told the tale, downplaying his and Slav’s side of the story and playing up Lance and the Yupper.  It was more entertaining, in Shiro’s opinion.  And he could recognize, in hindsight, that the stress and Slav’s.... Slav-ness rubbed him the wrong way, but it was a personal reaction.  Not something that necessarily translated.

Luckily, he didn’t need to.  Taki and Kitia were enthralled by Slav’s very presence in the story, and his part in the plan to get out.  Cartra and Dranel were interested in the fight with the Warden and his Yupper, especially how he boosted himself with his equipment.  Sam laughed with delight at Lance’s impressive shot.  And Matt-

Matt barely looked up from his plate.

“And, uh, it turned out, Pidge had her own plans,” Shiro said, finally.  “She brought a scanned copy of that photo of her and Matt at the Kerberos launch.”

Head snapping up, Matt finally met Shiro’s gaze.  “She did?”

Shiro nodded.  “She used facial recognition software to find anything out about you.  That’s how we knew you weren’t with the Galra anymore.  Of course, then we had no idea where you got to.  You all do a good job of hiding.”

“That we do,” Cartra agreed, her smile sly.  “Even the resources of Voltron couldn’t find us, despite actively looking.  I’ll accept that compliment.”

Shiro shot her a smile, but his gaze snapped right back onto Matt, who was watching with wide eyes.  “Even with everything she was doing, Pidge never stopped using every chance to find you both.”

Breath catching, Matt suddenly pushed up from the table.  “I-”  Taking a deep breath, he shoved his chair away.

He didn’t finish his sentence.  Instead he just ran out.

Watching him go, Shiro shook his head. “Did I say something wrong?” He asked.

“No, Takashi, you didn’t,” Sam replied.  His eyes were on the closed door.  “It’s just been a very long two years for Matthew.”

Shiro’s stomach dropped to his feet.  He pushed up and started for the door.

But a hand caught him tightly, holding him in place.  Shiro yanked away from Dranel’s grip, scowling at him.

“Give Holt space,” he told Shiro.  “He likes his privacy, and does not like to be interrupted in these moments.”

Shiro bristled, fully prepared to tell Dranel that he knew Matt perfectly well, and he didn’t need to be told how to handle his friend.

But that wasn’t true, was it?  Shiro knew how to deal with the Matt of two years ago, not the one these rebels knew.

“He has been better recently,” Taki offered, almost gently.  “But these moments are familiar.  You will not be able to get to him.  Holt will have locked his room.”

Kitia nodded.  “We can break through, but he doesn’t like it when we do that.”

Slowly, Shiro’s eyes found Sam, waiting for his word.

"He'll be alright," Sam told him, shoulders slumped and heavy.  His gaze slid to the door, and for a moment he looked quite old indeed.  "Go ahead and finish your meal.  By then he'll hopefully be ready to speak."   
  
Shiro took a deep breath, then nodded.  "Alright," he allowed, sitting back down.  Even as he picked his spoon back up, he continued to stare at the door.  A small hand on his arm made him jolt and look over.

"You help," Taki said.  “He has not done this since you arrived.”

"Or he just didn't want to be sad in front of Shiro."  Kitia tilted their head. "I'm not sure which."

Dranel tapped on the table.  "Enough.  It's Holt's business, he doesn't need you analysing him.  Leave him be."

That earned him a pair of reluctant nods.

Picking up his spoon again, Shiro took a deep breath and nodded.  "Alright."

He'd figure this out one way or another.

  
***   
  


A few hours later, Shiro knocked on the door to Matt's room.

It took several seconds for him to reply.  "Is it Shiro or Dad?"

"Pizza delivery."

Another pause, then the door opened.  Matt's eyes weren't red rimmed and there weren't any tear tracks, but he still looked like his shoulders were too heavy for his frame.  "Don't even joke about that.  I wish.  Desperately.  You want something?"

"I want to talk,” Shiro said.  He put his metal hand over the door frame, in case Matt got any bright ideas about shutting him out again.

That earned him a scowl.  "I needed a moment.  Do we really need to have this discussion?"

Shiro's brows rose.  "I don't know.  Do we?  You've been trying to get me to have one."

"Then you should leave me the hell alone when I ask you to leave it alone, since you’ve been dodging my attempts."

Dammit.  

"I want to help," Shiro finally answered.  "Or, at least, I want to know what I can do not to hurt you again like this."

For a moment, Matt just stared.  Then he made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and stepped back, letting Shiro move into his room.  "It's not like that.  I'm not- this is just me being a jackass."

Shiro sat down on the bed and watched him, swallowing sympathy.  "Look, it's okay.  I get it.  I have times when it's all too much too, and-"

Scowling, Matt shook his head.  "It's not a damn flashback, Takashi.  I’ve gotten them, I know the difference."

Oh.  Never mind.  "Okay.  Fine.  What is it, then?"

Matt made a face and sat down as well, crossing his arms.  "You just proved something to me.  Can we leave it, now?"

"You really think I'm going to?"  Shiro tilted his head, considering.  "You haven't asked about what Pidge was up to.  Why?"

Matt didn't say anything, just continued to stare at the wall.

For a moment, Shiro let him brood, then he tried again.  "Are you upset that she was looking for you?"

Making a choked noise, Matt fell back on the bed, still scowling.  "No.  Yes.  Not at her.  Of course she did.  God, I'm so proud of her boneheaded stunts, and I'm so pissed it landed her in space with everything awful.  She should be on Earth, annoying her teachers with how much smarter she is than them."

Shiro winced.  "I'm sorry that-"

"Shut up.  I know you didn't drag her into this.  Spare me."

Shutting his mouth with a click of his teeth, Shiro winced.  "Then I don't understand."

Matt swallowed hard, then turned to look at Shiro.  "You said she never gave up.  She kept looking for us at every chance.  What does that mean?"

"Well," Shiro replied, leaning back on his hands.  "It means that when we got access to Galra databases, she copied it so she could look for information on prisoners.  When we met Ulaz and the Blade, she asked after what information they had.  And what I told you, about the prison.  Taking that time to look for you.."

Matt's hands came up, and he scrubbed hard over his face.  "Yeah, that's about what I thought."

Slowly, Shiro lowered himself back, so he was laying face to face with Matt.  "Why is that a bad thing?"

Matt didn’t move his hands away.  "It means I'm a shitty big brother."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am!"  Matt pushed himself up on one elbow, scowling hard.  This time, his eyes were tinted red.  "I'm awful.  You know why?  Because while she was out there looking for us, fighting the Galra, all that- I wasn't thinking about her."

Shiro froze, sure for a moment he wasn't hearing right.  "What?"

Expression darkening, Matt made a violent, open gesture.  "Exactly what I said.  I wasn't worrying about her.  I wasn't thinking about how hard it'd be without us.  I was out here, signing up for years long missions, trying to keep Dad alive."

“Oh,” Shiro murmured.  He reached out, but stopped short, his hand settled on the bed.  The twisted anger and pain on Matt’s face made his chest clench tightly.

Matt sneered back, looking away.  "So, yeah, I don't take well to hearing about it.  It's great to know that Katie cares that much about us.  It's amazing to hear about all the good she's doing, and that she's safe.  At least, last you checked.  She made friends, and she's part of a team, and she's even more amazing than our mom and dad used to say she'd be.  But she deserves better than me."

Finally, Shiro sat up as well.  He reached up and put a hand on Matt's shoulder, making him flinch.  “Matt.  I did the same thing."

Matt froze, eyes wide.  "What?"

Swallowing hard, Shiro shrugged.  "I did the exact same thing.  Not to Pidge, obviously.  To my Aunt and Uncle, yeah, but- well.  That's different.  But, Matt, I did it to you.  You and Sam."

Slowly, Matt's shoulders started to slump.  "You- you stopped...?"

Shiro closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Of all the changes in Matt, he hated this look of defeat most of all.  It wasn’t like him.  Matt wasn’t meant to talk about himself like that.  "Not- It’s not that I don't care.  Because I do.  But there's a point where... I don't know, everything in your life is too much.”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed, voice quiet.  “I know what you mean.” He looked up at Shiro, eyes shining wetly in the dim lighting.  Wearing dark blue clothes, surrounded by navy rocks, made the flush on his cheeks and rim of his eyes stand out all the more.

Shiro’s hands twitched with the desire to brush Matt’s bangs out of his face, and to wipe away the growing tears.  He ignored the feeling as hard as he could.  This wasn’t about his stupid feelings.  

Instead, Shiro squeezed Matt’s shoulder comfortingly.  “I just didn't have the time, or the energy, or heart.  Ever since I woke up in Keith's shack, I've poured myself completely into Voltron.  I spent every spare moment on it, on making sure my team was safe, on keeping track of the alliances, on the Galra, on trying to fight a ten thousand year old war.”

Letting out a watery snort, Matt slumped against the bed.  “That’s more than enough for one person.  I think you had a good excuse.”

“I could have tried harder,” Shiro shot back.  “There were times I was reminded of both of you, and it  _ hurt _ .  So I didn’t dwell on it, and I was so busy.  Does that make me a bad person?"

Matt took a deep breath. "We're not family," he finally replied.  “It’s different.”

Brows up, Shiro shrugged.  "Doesn't mean I don't care about you.  And honestly, Matt?  You and Sam are more family to me than a lot of the people I'm actually related to."

Finally, Matt dropped his head.  "But you had so much more going on than I did.  I wasn't the head of a giant weapon robot lion thing."

"No, but you were keeping track of your Dad.  Especially when he's not as healthy as he used to be.  Matt, it's  _ okay. _  So, do you think I'm a bad person?"  Shiro spread his arms, waiting.  "It's okay if you do.  But know it applies to both of us."

Matt shook his head.  "No, you dope.  I don't think you're a bad person.  I don't think I ever could."  He sighed.  "I just- I'm her big brother.  I'm supposed to look out for her."

"You were surviving," Shiro replied, gentle and soft.  He flopped back down and held out his arm in offer.  "There's only so much brain in that head of yours.  You only have so many hours and so much energy.  You spent it on what was in front of you.  You survived, and that's what's important."

Letting out a long sigh, Matt laid back down, head pillowed on Shiro's offered arm.  "I still feel like shit about it."

"Mmm.  So do I.  But that's how it is."

For a long time, they both simply laid there and let the silence hang.

Eventually, Shiro tilted his head to the side, pressing his cheek to Matt’s longer hair.  Matt let out a low sigh, curling against Shiro’s side.

It made Shiro’s heart pound, but he shoved the feelings away impatiently.  Not now.  He wouldn’t ruin the moment like that.

Even so, he couldn’t help noticing how warm Matt was against him, and how silky his hair felt along Shiro’s jaw.

Later.  He’d deal with that later.

“You know, two years ago, we couldn’t have done this,” Matt finally said, voice soft.  “We’d have gone crazy rather than just lie here quietly and not move.”

Shiro smiled, eyes falling closed.  “Yeah.  Hell, a month ago I wouldn’t have been able to do this.  There was too much to do.  Too much to worry over.”

Tilting his head up, just enough to nudge against Shiro’s chin, Matt snorted.  “There isn’t now?”

“There is,” Shiro replied.  “But I’m learning to take things slower.  I don’t really have a choice, do I?  What about you?”

“Same here,” Matt said.  “I knew I’d be here for five years.  It was learn patience or give up on everything.”

Shiro sighed.  “We’re different.”

“We are.”  A pause, then Matt curled in closer.  “Do you think- Is Katie even going to recognize me?”

Chest clenching, Shiro turned over, pulling Matt in for a hug.  He tucked in automatically against Shiro’s neck, breath coming in short, tightly controlled bursts.  

“Yeah.  She’ll recognize you.  I still do.”

There was no reply, but Matt’s arms wrapped around him, holding on closely.

“I miss her.  I miss my mom.”

“I know,” Shiro murmured, lips brushing against the top of Matt’s head.  

If Matt’s breath came in ragged, wet pants, then Shiro wasn’t going to be the one to mention it.  Instead he just held on tight, and wished his heart didn’t ache so acutely from Matt’s pain.

Something had changed, the familiar morphing into what Shiro wasn’t sure how to handle anymore.  An idle attraction became bigger, more noticeable, harder to manage.

But Shiro didn’t need to do anything about it right now.  He only needed to hold Matt and help him let out the wounds from the last couple of years.

That, he still knew how to do.


	6. Gimme Love

Shiro sipped contentedly at his noodles, still gleeful at the opportunity. Supplies on their little base were limited, but these Shiro didn’t mind at all. It was like eating store-bought ramen again. It was probably not the healthiest meal, but it was warm and tasty, and Shiro hadn’t been able to mess it up.

Across the table, Dranel and Cartra continued to fondly bicker with each other. 

“You wouldn’t know a proper sport if it bit you on your plumage,” Cartra replied. “Back on the    
Dalterion Belt, Granx was known to be the superior game.”

“Only to cheaters and those easily distracted by spectacle,” Dranel shot back, pointing with his fork. “Real warriors prefer Meteor Tag.”

Cartra sniffed, head tilted back. The effect made her look a little like a deer deciding to bite a bite out of a flower, which was a thought Shiro was never going to share. At least, not to her face.

Flapping a hand, Cartra huffed. “I prefer a game with real strategy and precision. The players of Meteor Tag could never weave through even half the hoops.  They’d probably get confused and shoot them instead.”

Bristling, Dranel stabbed his fork into his bowl. “First of all, they all could, and easily, because they actually train worth a damn. Secondly, they don’t need to, because their sport isn’t so unnecessarily dramatic and overcomplicated.”

“Just because you can’t keep up-”

“No one can keep up, it’s the cause of at least two intergalactic incidents a year!”

“Because people are passionate about Granx!”

“More like idiotic.”

Leaning in closer to Matt, Shiro held up a hand over his mouth. “Have you seen either of those sports?”

Matt snorted and shook his head. “Nope. But I hear them argue about it every month or so. Headquarters always sends transmissions of a few games with their updates.”

“I think both are interesting,” Sam offered. “I listen to the transmissions with both of them while at the monitoring booth. Very different sports. The difference between ice skating and football.”

Tilting his head, Shiro eyed them. “That seems weird to compare them, if they’re that far apart.”

“Something to argue about,” Matt said, shrugging. He used his fork to idly spin the last of his broth. “They’re having fun. And driving the rest of us crazy with it.”

Shiro hummed his understanding, taking another bite from his noodles. “What else does headquarters broadcast?  I thought it was only mission details.  Who even are they?”

“Dunno the second one,” Matt replied. “No one does. That’s the point of a shady rebel organization. But they send a bunch of stuff. Reports, updates, information, sports games. Anything that can be sent in a single, quick burst of coded messages.”

Chuckling, Sam leaned back in his chair, watching Cartra and Dranel continue to sling insults. “Kitia and Taki always decode the games first, if only to keep from being hounded about it. I suppose the rest of it took longer than expected, since they’re not here yet.”

“Should we bring them a bowl?” Shiro asked. He might not have the most experience with the twins, yet, but he knew how Pidge and Hunk got. If they were deeply involved with a project, they could go hours past dinner without ever noticing.

Sam offered him a flash of a smile. “Not yet. It shouldn’t take too long. If it takes much longer than this, I suspect they got distracted with something else entirely.”

“In which case, just let ‘em go. They’ll wander in here when they remember to be hungry.” 

Brows up, Shiro snorted. “Cold.”

Matt stuck his nose in the air, but the effect was ruined by his easy smile. “Life’s hard in the rebel bases. You gotta watch out for yourself.”

There was a loud scrape as Cartra pushed her chair back and stood. “Lexin was disciplined for their actions, and they were a great player besides! There is no reason the entire sport should be condemned for the actions of just one participant.”

Dranel sneered back, eyes narrowed in playful viciousness. “I simply think it speaks to the quality of the people who succeed in Granx. And it shows that it is an activity where crooks do well.”

“Why you-”

Before the argument could launch into full scale fighting, the door opened. Taki and Kitia burst in, already shouting. “You must see this!  Shiro, look what was sent!”  Kitia cried.

Glancing from one to the other, Shiro swallowed his mouthful of broth. “...There’s something for me?” That wasn’t possible.  Headquarters hadn’t known about his existence at all until this last burst of information, which was sent simultaneously to the data packet they’d received.

“Here!” Taki shoved a print out into Shiro’s hands, nearly upending his container of broth. “Read this!”

Shooting them a scowl, Shiro put aside his meal, then finally looked at what they were both so excited about.

It seemed to be an advertisement, almost. It invited anyone and everyone who saw the message to come to the rally for the…

For the Voltron Coalition.

Shiro’s eyes went wide as he nearly fumbled the piece of paper. “Why- how…?  You got this from...?”

Kitia beamed, clearly pleased with his shock. “From headquarters. It was included in their monthly transmission. It’s happening soon!”

Leaning over his shoulder, Matt made an impatient noise. “What’s it say?”

“It’s Voltron,” Shiro replied slowly, his lips feeling numb as his mind processed. “They’re okay. Look.” He shoved it into Matt’s hands and leaned back, watching as he and Sam read it together.

They were okay. His team was okay. Not on Earth or on their own projects like he’d hoped, which meant something was keeping them fighting. But they were all together and doing well enough to be expanding their alliances.

Turning to the twins, Shiro took a ragged breath. “Thank you for bringing that so quickly.”

“It was no problem,” Taki replied, offering him a softer smile. “You were worried for them, and the green paladin is family of the Holts.”

“I was,” Shiro agreed thickly. “I am, even. But this answers at least some of my questions. Thank you.”

Leaning in, Kitia frowned. “You are beginning to secert water from your eyes. Is that normal?  I have not seen the Holts do this.” They reached up a hand to touch Shiro’s face, as if to poke his eye.

Shiro took their wrist in his hand, stopping the attempt. Then he used that to pull Kitia into a quick flash of a hug. He let go almost immediately, then pulled in Taki next. “I appreciate it.”

“You are welcome,” Taki muttered, sounding more than a little shell shocked. They stared at Shiro like he’d began to grow extra limbs.

Pushing his bangs out of his eyes, Shiro managed a smile.  “Yeah.  Sorry.  I’m a little-”  He shook his head, grin growing.

They were  _ okay. _  His team was together and doing well enough to host a rally.

Sam passed the message off to Dranel next, then took a deep breath. “Cartra, Dranel… We have to take this opportunity.”

Biting her bottom lip, Cartra took the sheet next. She scanned it quickly, then looked up. “It’s still a risk.”

“It’s my daughter.”

Cartra winced, then nodded. She glanced at Dranel, who sighed. “We’ll discuss it,” she said. “You’re right. This does change things.”

“Why?” Shiro asked. “Sorry, I didn’t read the entire transmission. What changed about the situation?”

Matt reached over and put a hand on his father’s shoulder, either to physically support him or for comfort. “They gave a location and a frequency. It’s within our sensors range, if we’re not just openly broadcasting. It means we’ll know exactly where they are, and when they’ll be listening.”

Heart pounding, Shiro’s hands dropped into his lap. “We can message them.”

“Please, do not get excited,” Dranel said, holding up his hands. “We wish to make this reunion happen for you all, I swear. To make contact with Voltron and begin coordinating with that group would be an incredible boon for the rebels as well. But we have to be sure we would not be revealing our location to other parties.”

Cartra nodded. “The Galra could wipe us out long before Voltron even registers the signal. We must do this wisely.”

Standing, Sam braced on his cane. “Please, both of you. This is my child. I can’t-”

“Sam,” Cartra interrupted. “I promise you. I swear. We will make this happen if we can.”

Raising a hand, Kitia crossed their bottom two arms. “Taki and I are willing to take the risk. Voltron is not just important for the people and the coordination. The technology Shiro has described is worth whatever it will take. Their shield barrier alone could help protect bases like ours in case of the worst.”

“We know,” Dranel replied, standing as much as he could in the short room. “We agree. But it needs to be discussed and planned. If they are doing these kinds of events, this is unlikely to be the last one. There will be other chances.”

Shiro took a deep breath, pushing back the thick lump in his throat. Then he nodded to Cartra and Dranel.  “You know how I feel, but I agree. I don’t want anyone to die for this. If it was just me on the line, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but-”

He wasn’t going to sacrifice lives and get everyone killed, no matter how painful the ache in his chest.

Part of what Shiro had learned as the Black Paladin was now to make the right choice over the choice his heat wanted. Getting killed in an effort to return to his team wasn’t worth it when there were other chances.

Slowly, Sam nodded and sat back down. He rested his cane in his lap, lips thin. Matt leaned into his side, wordlessly providing comfort.

With a last glance at Dranel, Cartra stood. “I’ll begin looking into the logistics. We’ll speak again this evening.”

“Sounds good,” Matt replied, squeezing Sam’s shoulder. “We know you’ll make the right choice.”

As Cartra and Dranel made their way out, speaking in low, urgent voices, Shiro rested his face in his hands and took a deep breath. It was out of his hands. 

That was still strange. Shiro was used to these kinds of decisions coming to rest on his shoulders. But now he was just waiting for someone else’s words.

On one hand, that was frustrating. Shiro wanted to be able to have that control, to step up and be sure the decision was the right one.

On the other, he didn’t envy Cartra and Dranel the call they were going to have to make.

“I think we should eat elsewhere and give you all privacy,” Taki murmured.

“I think you just want to eat in your lab,” Matt replied, snorting.

Kitia laughed, soft and quiet. “Today? Yes. Unless you need us to stay?”

There was a sigh, then Sam stood. “No, you can go. I think I’m going to head out to my room.”

With another rough side of his chair, Matt stood too. “I’ll help you-”

But he cut off as Sam held up his hand. “I’m alright. I just need some time.” He paused, then looked Matt over seriously. “Unless you need…?”

Matt offered a small back, smile and slightly tremulous. “No, I’m good. I’ll stick with Shiro until you’re ready to people again.”

Tapping him fondly on the thigh with his thigh, Sam took a deep breath, then started for the door, holding it open for the twins to escape with their noodles.

Once they were gone, Shiro closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair.

This might be it. He might see his team again, after weeks of being away. They wouldn’t be doing an event like this if they didn’t have Voltron, so they must have gotten a fifth pilot. Was it one of the Alteans, or did they find someone else completely? How had Keith dealt with leadership? How had the team dealt with Keith dealing? 

A hand settled on Shiro’s shoulder, making him start. Matt eyed him, brows up. “I can hear you thinking.”

Managing a half-smile back, Shiro let out his breath. “Yeah. You’re not wrong. Sorry. This- it answers a lot of my questions. But it reminds me of other worries.”

“I bet. But, nothing to do for it until someone makes a call, right?” Matt shrugged one shoulder, elaborately casual. “And even then, nothing to do until the event happens. Do you need to Kel No Reem or something?”

Shiro tilted his head. “For the moment, no. I just need a distraction, really.  How about you?”

Hand shifting slightly, Matt flashed him a grin. “Oh, you need one too? Well, gee, I have no idea how we could distract each other.”

To Shiro’s dismay, his mind offered some decidedly adult ways of distracting themselves.  His cheeks went bright pink before he could help himself, and there was no way to hide with Matt nearly in his face.  “Um.”

Matt’s mouth fell open. “You- Seriously?  I was thinking sparring or snarking or something. You dirty boy, Shirogane!”

Shiro only blushed harder. “Don’t say it like that!”

“Say it like what? That Shiro is thinking about doing the nasty?” Matt drew out the word, childishly teasing in a way that Shiro hadn’t heard from him in ages.

Looking over his face, Shiro could see the edge of stress at the corner of his eyes, and something bright.  Something like hope.

Clearing his throat, Shiro looked away. “It was just a stray thought, I’m sorry.  You don’t need to take it seriously.  It won’t change anything.”

Leaning down, Matt paused when their faces were inches apart. “Woah, wait there.  Don’t backtrack on me now.  I  _ did _ think it was just a stray thought, but you...  Do you have feelings for me?”

Shiro’s eyes darted down to Matt’s lips, close enough to feel their breath mix, then back up. “Um…”

Looking over Shiro’s face, Matt reached up and gently cupped his jaw.  It was so warm, even through the fabric of the glove.  Eyes fluttering, Shiro tried to pull away before he could give in, but Matt’s gaze stopped him.

“Please.  I need an answer.  You like me?”

Finally, reluctantly, Shiro nodded.  “Yeah.  I do.  I’m sorry.”

Matt’s expression clouded.  “Hey, what’s there to apologize for?”  His fingers curled, tilting Shiro’s head up.  “Unless you’re sorry for how long it took you to get on board.  If I’d known bulking up was the missing ingredient, I would have done it a long time ago.”

“That’s not what- wait.”  Shiro froze, eyes wide.  “That means you- you’ve liked me?   _ A long time ago? _  Since when?”

Matt reared back, brows up. “Seriously? You didn’t know?  Shiro, buddy, you can’t be that oblivious.  Everyone knew.  Katie teased me.   _ Dad _ teased me.”

“What?  No.  I wouldn’t have missed...”  Blinking rapidly, Shiro thought back, trying to pinpoint a moment that supported what Matt’s claim. 

Sure, he’d been touchy feely during the trip, but they all had. They’d been in a little tin can, there was no avoiding it. There were the times Matt had commented on Shiro’s hair growing out and messed with it, but Shiro hadn’t thought twice about it.  No, he didn’t see him touch other people that way, but he’d had his hands all over Shiro from the very start.  It was just how Matt was.

Or there were all the times Matt confided in him or tried to get him into mischief.  Or when Matt made cracks about talking about boys together.

Or every time Matt called him Starshine, with that head tilt and quiet smile.

“Oh.  Holy shit.”

Matt rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, oh.  Way to miss my signals.  It’s okay, I don’t expect you to keep up with my genius.  You’re my Pinky.”

Crinkling his nose, Shiro tilted his head.  “I’m your what?”

“The cartoon?  You- oh, forget it.”  Matt leaned in and pressed his lips to Shiro’s, gentle and sweet.  Then he pulled back.  “I had a crush on you, and then you heroically sacrificed yourself to save me.  You’re stuck with me, buddy boy.  Romantic or not, I held a candle for you the whole time I thought you were dead.  Finding out you’re still alive, and now an intergalactic hero?  Not stopping it.”

It was so damn strange to hear about himself from that perspective. 

But good.

“Well,” Shiro said.  “I always thought you were nice to look at, and you could always convince me to join your stupid plans.  But then I was sharing a room with you and your Dad at the same time, so I ignored it until it nearly went away.”

Matt snorted. “Smarter than me.  That was a sucky couple of months.”

“Yeah, well, then you found me, and some things were different, so I had to look at you with new eyes.  If I’d just given in then, we could have saved a lot of time.  Not that we would have ended up making out in the Daedalus.”  Pausing, Shiro’s gaze slid to the door.  “Can we talk about this in private.”

Grinning, Matt offered Shiro his hand.  “I like the sound of private.  Yeah.  Let’s go.”

***

“We keep ending up here,” Shiro murmured, sprawled out on his bed, feeling the solid press of Matt against him.

Humming, Matt shifted his grip on Shiro’s shoulders.  He was straddling Shiro, grinning down at him.  It made the longer strands of his hair curl down past his ears and chin.  

Even with the question of contacting Voltron hanging over them both, Matt looked.. Easier.  Calmer.

Letting out his pent up emotions had been good for Matt.

Now that there was no need to keep his hands to himself, Shiro reached up and ran his fingers through the wavy locks.  “Gunna keep growing this out?”

“Well, cutting it is a pain.  And I’m really close to being able to put it in a ponytail, which would help a lot.”  Matt smiled down at him, expression soft.  “What do you think?”

Snorting, Shiro gave the strands a gentle tug.  “I think you get to do whatever you want.  It’s not my hair.”

Matt rolled his eyes and shifted his weight.  It was a subtle move, but Shiro still froze, suddenly hyperaware that Matt was in his lap.  Over parts of him that were potentially very eager.  “I’m asking your opinion, Starshine.  Work with me here.”

“I think it looks good either way,” Shiro replied, undeterred.  “I’m still just happy you’re alive and close enough to touch, and not in a Galra work camp or somewhere equally awful.  You think I care what length your hair is?”

“At least I didn’t go sacrifice myself for what was supposed to be certain death,” Matt muttered.  He leaned down and kissed Shiro.  “Maybe you should grow out your hair.”

Shiro eyed him. “I don’t think so.  Do you know much effort I put into keeping it like this?”

“It’d look good,” Matt replied, drawing out the word.

“I doubt it.”

“I could tug you around by it.”

Shiro’s cheeks went red again.  “Matt!”

Snickering at his reaction, Matt kissed the tip of Shiro’s nose.  “You’d be so pretty.”

Brows up, Shiro snorted loudly.  “Yeah, no.  I’m the better part of a foot taller, and I have 80 pounds of muscle on you. No one is calling me pretty.”

“I am.  You’re my pretty, pretty boyfriend.”  Matt leaned forward, nuzzling their noses together.  “You’ll look lovely, Princess.”

Shiro paused, then shook his head.  It only made their noses bat together hard enough to sting.  “I’m not.  And I know a princess, now.  Makes the nickname weird.”

“Your life is what’s weird,” Matt muttered back.  He pulled away, rubbing his nose.  “But you are pretty.  Your face is pretty.”

Shiro rolled them both over with a groan, pinning Matt to the bed.  “You’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m Matt, remember?”

Grabbing his pillow, Shiro shoved it in Matt’s face.  “I’m going to suffocate you for that one.”

Matt’s legs wrapped around Shiro’s waist, and he flipped them back over with one powerful twist.  Then he pulled the pillow off his head and shot Shiro a toothy grin.  “You have to beat me, first.  I bet I can keep you pinned.”  

Eyes wide, Shiro stared up at him, face going hot.  “Um.”

“Do you like that?”  Matt’s smile got wicked.  “Ooh, you really are a dirty boy.”

“Quit saying that!”

“Make me sto-”

Reaching up, Shiro yanked Matt down into another kiss, hard enough that their teeth clacked together.  He started to pull back away, but Matt followed, turning the kiss into something much more pleasurable.

When they pulled back, they were both breathless, and Matt’s cheeks were flushed.  Combined with his mussed hair, he looked very, very good.

“I like this distraction,” Shiro murmured, reaching up to brush Matt’s bangs out of his face.  “It’s working for you too?”

Matt leaned into the touch.  “Mmm.  Oh yeah.  And I’m learning so much about you.  I was expecting you to be all about slow, gentle, vanilla sex, Mr. Paladin in shining armor.”

“I haven’t worn the armor in weeks,” Shiro pointed out.

“Yeah, that totally undoes my argument.  Well done.”

Rolling his eyes, Shiro ignored that.  “I’ve been around.  I know what I like.  And if that involves something a little rough once in awhile, I think I’m allowed that.”

“Only you can manage to sound prim while talking about getting fucked roughly, Starshine.”  Matt smiled down fondly at him.  “But, you sure?  I was getting ready to do all that gushy romance shit.  Make you a nice dinner-”

“You mean heat up the space ramen for me?”

Matt’s grin grew.  “Yes.  It’s really the only cooking we should be allowed to do.  And I was going to take you to a night under the stars, except it’s always stormy up there.  If all else failed, I was going to serenade you.”

“You had this all figured out, huh?” Shiro asked.  He tried to keep his tone flip, but he couldn’t hide the warmth growing in his chest.  “You can sing?”

Kissing him again, Matt nodded.  “I really do.  And no, I can’t.  But I was going to try for you.”  He held up his hand, clearing his throat.  “You are my Starshine, my only Starshine-”

Shiro rolled them again, cutting off Matt’s song, then kissed away his laughter.  “Ridiculous.  I never understood how you could say that utter nonsense with a straight face.”  His smile softened.  “But I always admired it.  Almost as much as I admired your tenacity and intelligence.”

“Oh, god, stop.  Why are you being all sincere?  Cut that out.”  Matt pulled over a pillow and covered his face with it.

Grinning wider, Shiro kissed the pillow instead, adding a smacking sound so Matt knew exactly what was happening.  “You’ve always been so smart and adventurous and cool, and now you also kick ass.  The complete package.”

Pulling the pillow away, Matt gave him a sad smile.  “I wanted to make sure no one had to sacrifice themselves for me like that again.”

Shiro’s smile fell away.  “Matt-”

Grabbing onto the collar of Shiro’s outfit, Matt yanked him into another kiss, cutting him off.  “So, you said I could thank you?”

“You already thanked me.”

Matt eyed him.  “You’re not being very quick on the uptake, here.”

Brows jumping, Shiro cleared his throat.  “Oh.  You mean- Uh, yes.  But, I mean, kissing is definitely thanks enough.  Not that you owe me kisses, just- please interrupt me from talking more.”

“Can do.”  Smiling, Matt kissed him again, opened mouthed and deeper than before.

That was-

It was very different.  This was never something Shiro had let himself think about, not since Kerberos.

But Matt’s lips were smiling against his, eyes bright with mischief, and that was the same as it always been.

That mix of old and new was what made this work.

Just as Shiro started to close his eyes and relax into the kiss, there was a loud buzz.

“That’d be our cue,” Matt said, pulling back.  “Ready?”

Shiro’s shoulders slumped.  “Yeah.  We should go hear their decision.”

Climbing off him, Matt titled his head.  “Well, that killed your mood.  You alright there?”

“Just worried,” Shiro replied. “It’s a big risk, after all.”

“They’re going to do it.”

Matt’s tone was so utterly clear and sure that Shiro could only stare.  “Did you hear something, or…?”

“No.  It’s just the smartest option, and the one everyone wants.  So they’re going to do it.  They’re just being cautious.”  Matt took Shiro’s hand and squeezed.  “We’re going to get you home.  And we’re going to get to Katie.  I’m sure of it.”

Meeting Matt’s eyes, Shiro believed it.

And even if it wasn’t true, Shiro thought he could believe in Matt, if only for just now.

“Okay,” Shiro replied, squeezing Matt’s hand.

Time to go home.


End file.
